


Parallel Lives: Seeds of Conspiracy

by aphreal



Series: Parallel Lives [2]
Category: Dragon Age, Mass Effect
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-13
Updated: 2013-02-13
Packaged: 2017-11-29 04:34:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 37,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/682827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphreal/pseuds/aphreal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following the disastrous mission at Ostagar, Lieutenant Cousland is placed under the command of Commander Guerrin with strict orders to complete the original mission and find out why things went so horribly wrong.<br/>Unsatisfied with the official explanations, Cousland also launches an unofficial investigation into the mercenary company that attacked her squad. In the process she learns more than she bargained for about the individuals and interests behind both the attack on Ostagar and her own family's tragic deaths months earlier.<br/>At the same time, she's struggling to define (and resist) the bond she's forming with the other Ostagar survivor, Alistair. They have to rely on each other to get past the trauma and survivor's guilt, and he's the only person she can talk to about her grief and anger who really understands. He makes her laugh. But that's all there is to it. That's all there possibly could be. He's a marine under her command, so anything more would be against regs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry for Wave 2 of the first ever Dragon Age Big Bang. Huge thanks to the moderators for putting this challenge together and keeping all of us writers and artists organized and in line. 
> 
> I was fortunate enough to receive two pieces of art from the amazingly talented Chenria, the first of which can be seen here: http://chenria.tumblr.com/post/43003138004/and-i-am-finally-allowed-to-post-this-its-for 
> 
> As always, I'm am hugely indebted to Cherie (signcherie), the best writing/critique partner I could ask for. It is almost entirely due to her influence that this isn't just a mass of NaNo-level rough text. 
> 
> Lieutenant Cousland was introduced in an earlier part of the Parallel Lives series, Six Glimpses: The Alliance Officer. I would encourage reading that first. http://archiveofourown.org/works/682767/chapters/1252696

A few days had passed since the disastrous away mission to Ostagar when Lieutenant Alexia Cousland was ordered to report to the captain’s office. She had just come off shift, so it only took a quick check that her duty uniform wasn’t too badly wrinkled and none of her hair had come untucked from its tight knot before she considered herself sufficiently presentable for an audience with her commanding officer. 

Alexia arrived to find the captain’s office door closed and displaying the red light indicating it was locked. Assuming that something important had come up – or that she had arrived sooner than the captain was expecting – she settled in to await the captain’s convenience. 

Within a few minutes, she was joined by another marine serving on the Nairobi, Private First Class Theirin. After his injury and subsequent severe blood loss on Ostagar, Alexia was pleased to see him up and around, looking fully recovered. He was proof that she’d managed to salvage something from the otherwise unmitigated disaster that simple mission had turned into. 

“Alistair.” She greeted him with a nod and friendly smile. 

He responded with a lopsided grin. “I’m glad you’re here. I’ve been trying to guess what mistake I made that the captain found out about, but she’s much less likely to be delivering a dressing down with an audience.” 

“Unless it’s about Ostagar and she’s saving herself time by reprimanding us both together.” 

Alistair’s smile faltered at her mention of the planet where the entire rest of their team had been lost. “It’s definitely about Ostagar, but I can’t see what she’d have to blame _you_ for.” 

Alexia frowned, preparing to counter his implication that there was anything he could have done to change how things had turned out, but before she got a chance, the light turned green and the door hissed open in response to their proximity. 

“Guess we’ll find out.” Alistair sounded defeated, ducking his head as he walked into the room. Lips twitching into a brief frown, Alexia squared her shoulders and followed. 

The captain returned their salutes and gestured for them to take a seat at a small table, dropping wearily into the chair across from them. In her limited time stationed on the Nairobi, Alexia hadn’t gotten many opportunities to interact directly with the captain, so she took advantage of this chance to study the woman she was serving under. 

Captain Sophia Dryden had a reputation for efficiency, determination, and sheer strength, traits that had allowed her to rise high in a military system that was still often a male-dominated hierarchy. Her appearance reinforced everything Alexia had heard about the woman. Captain Dryden’s hair hung evenly to her jawline, streaks of iron grey mixing with the brown. She wore the Alliance colors comfortably and with pride; Alexia had never seen the captain’s shipboard uniform in any state but crisply pristine. 

But her eyes were what truly commanded attention. Dryden’s gaze was firm and piercing, never wavering or showing signs of hesitation. The crease between her brows formed by furrowed determination far eclipsed the tiny crinkles of laugh lines. Alexia found herself unconsciously straightening her spine and sitting more at attention as the captain’s gaze came to rest on her. 

Dryden wasted no time on pleasantries, folding her hands on the table and putting her full focus on her subordinates. “I need to speak with you about Ostagar.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” Alexia nodded. “Is there something from my debriefing that you want clarified?” 

“That won’t be necessary, lieutenant. On the contrary, there’s information I should give you about the mission. I assume you’re both familiar with the history of the Ostagar colony.” It was phrased as a statement, but her inflection made it a question. 

“Yes, ma’am.” Alexia nodded. 

Theirin chose to elaborate. “It was an early human settlement. Things seemed promising at first, but the colony failed and was eventually abandoned.” 

Captain Dryden gave a single crisp nod. “Given the current rise in colonial expansion, there is interest in resettlement. But no corporation wants to take on the financial risk of a colony that’s likely to fail again. In order to reassure potential investors and make a new venture viable, the previous difficulties need to be satisfactorily explained so they can be avoided this time around.” She spread her hands on the table. 

“Our mission was to retrieve data regarding the problems experienced by the original colony and perform analyses to determine the root cause of the settlement’s failure.” Her lips thinned, pinching together tightly for a moment before she continued. “Clearly, due to unanticipated circumstances, we were not successful.” 

Alexia winced at the memories brought up by that extreme understatement. Batarian and vorcha mercenaries appearing out of nowhere on a supposedly uninhabited planet. Her fellow marines dropping to the ground shredded by multiple shots before they even knew they were under attack. The major and commander rallying the remaining troops into a defensive formation that held for only moments before buckling under the brutal assault of krogan shock troops. Brief hope vanishing at the sight of the major crushed and broken, followed by the commander vanishing in a blinding explosion, along with most of the krogan. The shock and horror of realizing she was now the commanding officer on her first away mission. Silence on the comm channel as she tried to re-establish contact with a squad that was lying broken and bloody, scattered around the killing field. A flood of relief when Theirin responded, confirming that at least she wasn’t totally alone. Patching him up and blasting their way out through the mercs to reach the evac shuttle. Returning to the Nairobi with the news of catastrophic failure and staggering loss. 

Alexia swallowed the bile threatening to rise in her throat, forcing her breathing into even patterns and focusing on her current surroundings to blot out the memories. Next to her, she could hear Theirin’s ragged breathing. His hands were clenched into white-knuckled fists. She surreptitiously placed a gentle hand on his arm to anchor him, feeling him startle as she drew him back to the present. He relaxed after a moment, and she withdrew her touch. 

Captain Dryden didn’t acknowledge the lapse, waiting for them to both regain their composure and continuing on as if nothing had happened. “We still need that information, and now we also need to find out who else wants it. I will be sending another away mission to Ostagar, under the leadership of Commander Guerrin.” She pursed her lips as if finding her next words distasteful. “I’m asking you to go with them.” 

“Aye aye, ma’am.” Alexia’s response was nearly reflexive, the only answer available to an assignment from a superior. 

Captain Dryden frowned darkly. “I said ask, lieutenant, not order. I know what I’m asking of you with this, and I won’t force it on either of you. It would be preferable for Commander Guerrin to have someone along who knows the lay of the land, but only if you’re up for going back. That’s something _you_ have to decide.” 

Alexia took a moment to consider the captain’s words. Her initial response was to volunteer enthusiastically. She couldn’t start her career with a reputation for weakness, for avoiding difficult situations. Of course, it would be even worse to go on the mission when she wasn’t ready, to fall apart in the middle of it. Given the near flashbacks she’d had just at the mention of the place, it was a possibility she couldn’t discount. But refusing would mean giving in to her fear, letting the haunting memory control her, and she didn’t want to give it that kind of power. Ostagar had been bad, but a marine was almost guaranteed to see ugly things over the course of her career. If she started running from them now, what kind of precedent would that set for the future? How long until she was completely crippled by the pressures of the job? No, she needed to stand up to the memories. Acknowledge the trauma, admit that it had been difficult and painful and terrifying, and face it anyway. 

Mind made up, she looked over to Theirin, expecting to see a similar struggle reflected on his face. Instead, he was looking to her, waiting for her decision. He must have seen something in her expression that gave him an answer. He nodded at her, the set of his jaw strengthening, his eyes intense. “Give it a meaning,” he said softly. 

Alexia took a minute to recognize her own words, to realize that he was echoing what she’d said to him in the medbay after they returned from Ostagar. Her impromptu speech had been part pep talk and part incoherent rant, but apparently some of her message had gotten through. “Make it worth something,” she agreed. 

Alistair nodded, affirming their shared pledge to honor the lives lost by living their own the best they knew how. 

As one, they turned back to Captain Dryden. Alexia spoke for both of them. “We’ll go, ma’am.” 

“Good.” The captain smiled, a grim expression of satisfaction if not pleasure. “Guerrin will brief you and coordinate the mission. I’ll let him know you’re on board. Dismissed.” 

They stood, saluted, and left the captain’s office. Once the door hissed closed behind them, Alexia let her shoulders finally relax and rolled her head to ease the tension from her neck. A quick glance at Alistair showed that he was equally uncomfortable, and she had a sudden stab of worry that she was leading him into something he wasn’t ready for. “Alistair. Are you sure you’re okay with this?” 

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” His tone was bright and brittle. 

She frowned at his facetious answer and fixed him with a hard stare. 

Alistair sighed, giving in to the pressure of her scrutiny. “I won’t say I’m looking forward to it, but if I can help figure out how this happened, maybe there’s a chance for justice or closure or… something.” He shrugged and recentered himself, focusing on something he was sure of. “Teagan’s a good officer. We’ll be as ready as we can be to face that place.” A tiny, shy smile crept on his face. “I’m glad I won’t be doing it alone.” 

 

Sitting in the shuttle on the way back down to Ostagar, Alexia was tense, jumpy. Her armor felt too restrictive, and she wanted to spring up and pace around the narrow confines of the shuttle’s passenger cabin. Through force of will, she kept her arms and legs still, concealing her anxiety from the marines around her. Guerrin’s team didn’t know her, and she couldn’t afford to make a poor first impression by looking weak and unable to control herself. They would never respect her as an officer if they thought she was a coward. 

She glanced up at Theirin, sitting across from her and a few seats down. He looked okay, relatively calm and composed, and she took comfort from his evident control. If he could handle this trip back into their shared hell, so could she. 

The briefing for this mission had been kind of surreal – for both of them, she thought. It was impossible to avoid drawing comparisons with the preparations for the previous mission to Ostagar. The mission objectives were effectively unchanged from the first assignment – aside from the additional goal of retrieving remains – but the entire feel of the briefing had been different. Commander Guerrin had given a thorough tactical summary, laying out objectives, potential ambush sites, and other knowns and unknowns of the site they were heading into. Much of his information had been drawn from Alexia’s post-mission debriefing, and she felt a sense of pride that much of his analysis of the site matched the conclusions she had reached. 

She had to remind herself it was unfair to judge the late Major Theirin on the basis of a briefing for a single disastrous mission. There was a huge difference between planning simple data retrieval from an abandoned planet that had been uninhabited for years and preparing to return to the site of a recent, deadly battle zone. It would be uncharitable to condemn the major for his troops’ lack of preparation; no one had expected what had happened at Ostagar. And it was pointless to hold a grudge against the dead, anyway. 

Alexia could only hope that things would be very different this time around. Guerrin impressed her as a competent, focused officer, someone who knew his soldiers and cared for their well-being. His planning had been thorough, and she felt that the team was far better prepared for whatever they would face. 

She tensed as the shuttle touched down, then forced herself to take a deep breath and relax, keeping her muscles loose and flexible, ready to respond to the unknown. 

She had a flash of déjà vu as the shuttle door opened onto a familiar landing zone, and that was only the first of many uncomfortable snapshots of memory she experienced as they retraced the route the earlier squad had taken to reach the colony’s central data storage facilities. Preliminary scans from the shuttle had shown no signs of life near the landing zone, but the commander wasn’t taking chances, deploying scouts and a rearguard to watch for signs of potential mercenary activity. Despite his precautions and the scouts’ assurance that the area was devoid of hostile presence, Alexia felt herself getting jumpy as they approached the ambush site. 

Commander Guerrin called the team to a halt until they received another all-clear from the scouts, and only then did he allow them to enter the area the mercenaries had turned into a devastatingly effective kill zone. Alexia’s training told her that she should be examining the terrain to fully understand how the mercs had gotten the drop on them and turned the encounter so thoroughly to their advantage. 

But she couldn’t bring herself to focus on anything past the bloodstains, the projectile damage, and the bodies scattered around the site. Judging by the low whistles and muttered curses coming from the other marines, she wasn’t the only one affected by being here. It was one thing to listen to reports of an entire team being wiped out, another thing entirely to stand in the midst of the carnage, surrounded by their fresh bodies. 

The collective shock didn’t last long. Commander Guerrin tasked several individuals with retrieving the remains of the Nairobi’s fallen crew members and transporting them back to the shuttle, while others were assigned to investigating the mercenary corpses. He left a few of the best snipers on lookout duty. Alexia noted that neither she nor Theirin were given an assignment. 

The exclusion grated slightly, coming with the implication that she was incapable, but she had to admit it would have been difficult to handle the bodies without reliving the combat. Being here, surrounded by the sights, sounds, and smells of the battlefield made it challenging enough to suppress the memories without adding a tactile component. Her attention was caught by a mangled pile of vorcha, and she shuddered at the sudden vision of her shotgun blasts tearing them apart. Swallowing hard, she fought a surge of nausea, forcing her attention away. 

She scanned the battlefield, catching sight of Theirin standing motionless in the midst of a near-perfect circle of blackened, twisted debris. As she made her way towards him, carefully watching her step, the perspective resolved. He was standing in the epicenter of the blast that had killed their previous commander, along with nearly all of the krogan shock troops who had been charging him. The commander’s sacrifice had evened the odds, giving the surviving marines a shot at getting out. Alexia wondered if he would have considered that a fair trade had he known how few of his soldiers would make it. 

Watching her step, Alexia picked her way through the mangled piles of krogan remains to where Theirin stood. His head was down, studying the ground at his feet. When she got close enough to make out his face, shadowed as it was by his helmet, she was taken aback by the expression of open, unguarded grief. Not wanting to intrude, she stopped a few feet away, giving him space. 

“Duncan. He was my mentor. He recruited me into the marines, you know.” The words were soft but clearly meant to be heard. He raised his grief-stricken face, seeking her out. “I can’t believe he’s gone.” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t have the chance to know him.” The words fell from her mouth because she didn’t know what to say, and she cringed as soon as she heard them. They sounded every bit as hollow as the useless comfort she’d been offered at her family’s memorial service. She clenched her jaw shut before any more empty platitudes could escape. Filling the awkward silence of mourning with words was for the benefit of the person outside the grief, not the person experiencing it. 

Alistair’s eyes had drifted back to the ground, likely searching the mangled wreckage for something identifiable as his mentor’s remains, some tangible sign of the commander’s presence, however macabre. That empty, hopeless searching tugged at a pain Alexia thought she’d buried. Silently, resisting the temptation to create a buffer of safe, meaningless words, she moved into the space she’d given him and reached out a hand to place on his shoulder. What he needed – what she’d found most helpful – was to know that, despite the loss, he wasn’t as alone as he felt right now. All the hollow words in the galaxy wouldn’t give him that. But someone standing willingly at his side might make a start. 

He didn’t look up again or acknowledge her gesture, but she could feel his shoulder relax under her hand as some of the rigidity went out of his posture, as he stopped trying to bear all of the responsibility and hurt alone. 

Alexia had no idea how long they stood there, Alistair searching for meaning in senseless death while she offered what meager comfort she could give through her simple presence. Eventually, the tableau was broken by the crunching of other footsteps making their way through the rubble surrounding the blast site. Theirin’s head snapped up and turned towards the sound, and Alexia removed her hand and squared her shoulders to stand more at attention to greet Commander Guerrin. 

Their commanding officer was appraising the destruction with a critical eye. “What exactly happened here?” 

Alexia glanced at Theirin, offering him the chance to answer if he was ready to talk about it. When he didn’t say anything, she took the lead again. “The krogan shock troops came in from over there, behind our hasty defensive lines.” She gestured towards the door that the hulking mercenary group had exploded from. “They overran the major and were sweeping towards the rest of the squad. The commander…” 

Theirin interrupted her, his voice stronger than she’d heard it since the shuttle landed. “Duncan drew them off. He lured them over here and blew everything to hell. I know he overloaded his omnitool, and it looked like there were grenades involved, but beyond that I have no idea how he did this, how one man created this much destruction on short notice. But it worked; not a single krogan got up afterwards.” 

Guerrin scanned the blast radius again, his gaze lingering on the debris in certain areas. “I would imagine not.” There was a trace of admiration present in his otherwise solemn expression. He nodded decisively and fixed them with an intent look. “He gave his life to save the soldiers under his command, and I am certain Captain Dryden’s report will reflect that heroism. I can only hope that I would do as much in his place.” 

“It hardly seems worth it just for us.” Theirin’s gaze had shied away, back to the destruction surrounding them. 

Alexia wanted to reach out to him again, to remind him he wasn’t alone. She held back, unsure whether he would accept the gesture with another party present – or if it was a level of informality she ought to display in front of their commanding officer. While she hesitated, the decision was taken away from her. 

“That was his call to make, private, not yours.” Guerrin’s sharp tone snapped Theirin’s head back up to attention. Alexia was shocked by the harshness of the commander’s response, but it seemed to work, at least for the moment. Theirin squared his shoulders and appeared to break out of whatever negative headspace he had been trapped in. 

Guerrin looked distracted for a moment, focusing on something coming across his comm link. “Acknowledged.” He nodded, hit a button, and the rest of his words came across the channel to the entire squad, echoing strangely to Alexia as the feed’s delay lagged the slightest bit behind his audible voice. “Regroup at the ambush site. We’re ready to press on to the data source. No sign of resistance yet, but everyone stay sharp.” 

 

A few mercifully uneventful minutes later, they reached the data storage facility, an area Alexia had only seen in briefing schematics; the previous mission hadn’t made it this far. She was shocked to see that the server area looked nearly as bad as the combat site. Other than the lack of blood, the level of destruction was entirely comparable. Every significant piece of hardware had been thoroughly and systematically trashed. The team’s tech expert, an auburn-haired woman Alexia had yet to be introduced to, froze in the doorway with a despairing groan when she saw what she had to work with. 

“This doesn’t change the mission,” Guerrin said firmly. “Justine, get what you can from it. Captain Dryden calls you a miracle worker, so now’s your chance to prove it.” 

“I’ll do what I can.” She sounded less than confident, but her hesitation was quickly replaced by a tone of authority as she entered the room, snapping at the teammates who tried to follow her. “Everyone stay back. This is enough of a mess as it is. The last thing I need is more people tromping through making it worse. Stepping on a microchip, frying a drive with static discharge from a kinetic barrier.” Her voice trailed off into muttering as she pulled up her omnitool and began attempting to interface with the most intact pieces of equipment. 

Commander Guerrin tasked two marines with guard duty while Justine worked – reminding them to remain strictly outside the server room. “The rest of you, perimeter sweep. Let’s give the miracle some space to happen and see what else the vandals felt the need to tear up while they were here.” 

 

Alexia wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad sign that nothing else in the abandoned colony showed damage beyond what would be expected from so many years of neglect. On the one hand, they could be pretty sure they knew exactly what the mercs had been after. On the other, it was hard to believe it was a coincidence that an Alliance patrol and an armed group of thugs for hire had come looking for exactly the same information at the same time on a planet the galaxy had ignored for years. Alexia wasn’t entirely sure about the potential implications of the sudden merc interest, but nothing she could think of was good. Her only consolation with the situation was that she wasn’t high enough up the chain of command to be responsible for dealing with it. 

The shuttle ride back to the Nairobi was subdued, nearly silent except for the hum of the thrusters or the occasional rattle as the pilot compensated for shifts in air pressure. Once they broke atmo into the near vacuum of space, even those sounds went away, leaving the uncomfortable press of silence. Guerrin’s marines had all been rendered speechless by the bodies of their fallen comrades sharing the ride. It would have been a sobering experience in any case, surrounded by the dead, but Alexia had to remind herself that the situation was worse for everyone else on board. Unlike her, they had served with these marines, sometimes for years. Every one of her fellow soldiers was looking at or picturing at least one familiar face in the temporary morgue their shuttle had become. It wasn’t any wonder that no one had much to say. 

Alexia found it easier to look at the faces of the living rather than the dead. Their pain was raw and heart-wrenching, but it wasn’t accompanied by periodic flashbacks to violent confrontation and scattered images of bodies exploding with sprays of blood. Grief was less unsettling; it had become familiar to her in recent months. 

In looking around the shuttle at her grim companions, she found Theirin seated near the major’s body. He was alone, the other soldiers having left a clear space around him, presumably respecting his need to mourn. Alexia didn’t know the full story, but she assumed the major had been a relative of his, based on the shared family name and facial resemblance. Loss of family was something she could relate to all too well, and while she understood her fellow marines’ impulse to give Theirin space, it wasn’t what she would have wanted in his place. She didn’t think he did either, based on his reactions to her presence on-planet. And if she was wrong, he could always tell her to go. 

Moving carefully in the over-crowded space, Alexia made her way down the shuttle to settle onto the bench next to Theirin, deliberately occupying the empty space the others had left. He didn’t acknowledge her, sitting with his head bowed and shoulders hunched forwards. That was all right. This was about his needs, and if all he needed was to know he wasn’t alone, conversation didn’t have to be part of it. Alexia sat by his side for the rest of the shuttle flight. He never said anything to acknowledge her presence, but when they returned to the Nairobi, he offered her a weak smile as he dragged himself to his feet. 

 

Alexia had changed into her shipboard uniform and settled into one of the Nairobi’s off-duty lounge areas when Commander Guerrin approached her. He appeared to be looking for her specifically given the way his eyes scanned the room and fixed onto her. She stood to greet him with a salute. 

He returned it casually. “At ease, lieutenant. I was hoping we could talk, informally.” 

“Of course, sir.” Alexia settled back onto the padded bench, making room for the commander to join her. 

Guerrin sat in the cleared space, turning to face her, his posture and mannerisms casual. “We haven’t really had the opportunity to get to know one another since you came on board, and especially now that you’re going to be serving in my unit, I want to remedy that.” 

“I appreciate it, sir.” 

“So consider this an informal formal welcome to the crew.” Guerrin’ smile faltered as a pair of servicemen carried a sealed coffin along the corridor outside the lounge. “I only wish it were under better circumstances.” 

“So do I. It must be harder for those of you who knew them better than I got the chance to.” 

“It’s always hard to lose comrades, especially when you’ve been stationed together for a while. A ship’s crew becomes a close-knit family, as I’m sure you’ll discover.” He paused for a moment, eyes distant with thought, before refocusing his attention on her. “You seem to have developed something of a rapport with Alistair already.” 

Alexia nodded uncertainly, not sure how that statement connected to his previous one or what train of thought had led him there. It was a neutral observation but potentially a dangerous one. There was clearly an implied question, but without knowing what it was, she couldn’t guess how to properly respond. 

She felt her shoulders raise unconsciously into a more formal posture as she made her best attempt. “I kept an eye on him down there today, sir. I barely dragged him off of Ostagar before, and I wanted to make sure he came back again. It would have been too easy to get lost there.” 

She had no idea if that was what Guerrin had wanted to hear, and his intent, appraising gaze made her uncomfortable. She shifted slightly in her seat and redirected the conversation. “Major Theirin was his cousin?” 

The commander shook his head slowly. “Brother.” 

That was too close. It felt like a blow to the stomach, and her breath froze for a moment. The shock must have been obvious, given the commander’s careful response. 

“Half-brother.” Guerrin elaborated, his tone less abrupt. “They weren’t close. Their father was General Maric Theirin. Yes, the hero from the First Contact War, _that_ Theirin. Alistair was a product of his second marriage, and that entire relationship didn’t go over well. Maric’s first wife had been well connected and well regarded.” 

“And your sister, I believe.” 

Guerrin’s brow furrowed with a frown, and Alexia regretted her presumption almost immediately. She tried quickly to salvage the situation. 

“I haven’t been prying, sir. My mother was Alliance and my father spent years in diplomatic circles. I was raised knowing who was important and how they were connected. I recognized your family’s name and connections as soon as I saw you on the Nairobi’s rolls.” 

Guerrin’s face relaxed, and the dark clouds gathering in his eyes dissipated, replaced by a glint of understanding. “Ah, those Couslands. I had wondered.” 

“Yes, sir. Those Couslands.” Alexia felt a lump in her throat and quickly deflected the conversation away from her family. “We were talking about Private Theirin’s family, sir?” 

He nodded, resuming his narration. “Maric’s second marriage was not widely recognized, for various petty and political reasons. And his ship was lost soon after Alistair was born. He grew up very isolated and alone. I suspect I was the only one of Maric’s close acquaintances who even tried to maintain a relationship with the second son, and I’m certain it wasn’t nearly enough.” He paused with a melancholy sigh, but then a proud smile crept onto his face. “He grew up well, despite all of that. It’s nice to have a chance to serve with him and see who he became. I think Maric would be proud. He’s a good man.” 

“Yes, sir. And a good marine.” 

Her response seemed to remind Guerrin he had an audience for his reminiscence. He straightened up, eyes focusing back on her instead of somewhere in the past. “Thank you for your part in his return. We’ve lost enough. I’m glad that didn’t include him, too.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm struggling with a section of html in this that I simply can't get to work. Apologies for any resulting confusion.

The next afternoon, Alexia found herself sitting in the briefing room again. She had been surprised to receive a summons to today’s officer briefing. As a freshly-minted lieutenant, she had no expectation of being included in decision-making at this level. Now, looking around the room, it became pretty clear why Captain Dryden had added her to the list: there wasn’t really anyone else. 

Most of the Alliance fleet was running ships with a lower officer complement than usual following the high casualties at the Battle of the Citadel. While the Academy was recruiting heavily and pushing its best candidates through the coursework as quickly as possible, it took time to produce competent, solid officers, and the process could only be rushed so much. And the Nairobi was even further under strength following the losses at Ostagar. Even with junior lieutenants like Alexia included in the officer briefing, the seats around the table were barely two-thirds full. It was a sobering reminder of just how devastating Ostagar had been to this crew. 

Captain Dryden entered the room from the comm area, and the quiet chatter around the table faded almost immediately as she slid into her seat at the head of the table. “Sorry to keep you all waiting. I was on a call with the Admiral.” 

A murmur of acknowledgement and curiosity rippled around the room at that news, but it died out quickly as the captain picked up her datapad, prompting the rest of the meeting to consult their copies of the rough agenda. 

“Obviously, the main thing in front of us is the data recovered from Ostagar. Justine?” 

The auburn-haired tech specialist pursed her lips as she pulled up files on her omnitool. “Calling it ‘data’ is generous. Scattered, mangled fragments of information might be more accurate.” 

Alexia saw a few of the other officers roll their eyes or cover smirks. Apparently the specialist’s dramatic tendencies were a familiar fixture at these meetings. The fact that Captain Dryden tolerated the behavior spoke well of Justine’s abilities. 

Fortunately, the tech specialist seemed satisfied with airing her complaints and moved on to presenting actual details. “The data recovery of the information from the Ostagar colony files is proving challenging, to say the least. But I’ve made some early progress. The fragments that I’m piecing together from the last records of the colony before it failed suggest they were fighting some sort of fast-spreading epidemic. I’m basing that guess on scattered mentions of quarantine orders, rationing of medical supplies, and something that looks like epidemiology tracing the spread of an emerging disease.” 

Lieutenant Commander Athlar, a naval officer who had worked with Dryden for years, took over the floor to provide context. “I want to emphasize that this is all preliminary, and I think Justine would be the first to tell us we shouldn’t put too much weight on tentative suppositions. This is totally new information, and we don’t want to jump to unwarranted conclusions.” He paused and pulled up a different file on his datapad. “Ostagar’s environment was extensively analyzed prior to colonization, and the scans found absolutely no sign of potential serious contagions. The settlement never would have been established if there were potential health risks. But we can’t rule it out; clearly something unexpected happened that caused the colony to fail. 

“If we assume for now that the preliminary analysis is correct, that leaves us with a few possible conclusions. Either the surveys missed something, a new infectious agent mutated or emerged with stunning rapidity, a dormant or cyclic threat resurfaced that hadn’t been active during the scanning period… or the pathogen didn’t have a local origin.” 

“Thank you, Justine, Athlar.” The captain paused for a moment to let everyone absorb the reports. “The one thing that is clear at this point is that we need more information before we can reach a solid conclusion about what happened on Ostagar ten years ago. I’ve asked Justine to continue working with the data she was able to recover, and she’ll report back when we know something more.” 

The captain touched her datapad, highlighting the next item on the agenda. “The information recovered from the mercs who carried out the ambush was considerably more useful.” 

“Due to the OSDs not having been torn to shreds,” Justine muttered. 

The captain continued as if she hadn’t heard the interruption. “There’s no need to go into the details, but the files we’ve recovered strongly suggest that the mercenary group was on Ostagar in the employ of turians.” 

A chorus of shocked outbursts erupted throughout the room. Alexia didn’t join in verbally, but the same questions were running through her head. Why would the turians have agents on a failed human colony that the Alliance was investigating for resettlement? It looked like their primary goal had been destruction of the colony’s data center. What had been in those files that turians wanted to keep the Alliance from finding out about? They had been interrupted by an Alliance team. What if their original objectives had been something different, more subtle, and they had resorted to trashing the files as a desperate effort to salvage the situation? 

Captain Dryden’s voice rang through the room, cutting off the chatter – and Alexia’s line of thought. “Enough! There is no point in speculating based on limited information. We don’t know enough at this point to develop a plan of action. I wanted all of you to be aware of the direction the investigation is taking so that you can contribute thoughts and questions towards the analysis. 

“Justine and our other analysis experts will continue working with the available data. I’m sending all of you copies of the summarized conclusions. Athlar is coordinating this project, so any suggestions you have can be directed to him. I will keep you updated as new information develops. I don’t see anything else productive coming out of this meeting. Dismissed.” 

 

The officers formed into small knots as the meeting broke up, heads close together in tense, speculative discussion. As the newest officer with few established connections, Alexia wasn’t drawn into any of the conversations. She made her way out of the briefing room, threading between the various groups, overhearing fragments from each as she worked through her own thoughts. 

Alexia’s primary reaction was that something in the briefing information felt off. There were too many gaps to be sure of anything, but what pieces they had didn’t line up. She puzzled over what specifically was bothering her as she walked through the Nairobi’s corridors, nodding casual greetings to those she passed but not lingering to chat. 

By the time she reached her quarters, she’d manage to put her finger on the crux of her unease: They were asking the wrong questions. 

Everyone was so distracted trying to figure out why the turians would care about Ostagar and what data they had been trying to cover up. But that was ignoring the even bigger discrepancy of the methods employed. If the turians cared about information stored at Ostagar, why would they send mercenaries instead of their own trained operatives? And why those mercenaries? Unlike the rest of the officers in the briefing, Alexia had seen the mercs in action. They were unquestionably effective at combat, savage and brutal, but there hadn’t been any evidence of subtlety. They weren’t the right team to send for a data retrieval or erasure mission. 

The incomplete data erasure had been sloppy, and trashing the terminals was bindingly obvious – and incredibly amateur. If there was information that someone wanted to keep from being discovered, deleting or replacing it would have been a far more effective way to keep it out of Alliance hands without raising suspicion. A hack would have been a more elegant and logical solution, and it wouldn’t have needed a full mercenary company. The only reason for the mercs to bring that kind of firepower onto the planet would have been if they knew the Alliance was coming and specifically wanted to take them out. And that raised even more disturbing questions about how they could have gotten that information. 

Either whoever was behind the mercenary attack on Ostagar – and Alexia had serious doubts the source was turian – had a plant or leak inside the Alliance, or Alexia was becoming paranoid. Either way, these weren’t suggestions she wanted to take to Lieutenant Commander Athlar. She didn’t need to have that kind of wild speculation on the record. Fortunately, she had access to resources outside the military. 

Alexia currently wasn’t sharing her quarters with anyone, a perk of being one of few female officers on an understaffed crew. The space allocated to a junior officer wasn’t luxurious, but it was nice to have a little room to spread out and, more importantly, privacy. 

Sitting down at her private terminal, Alexia pulled up a file of contact information. The sympathy messages that had flooded in after her parents’ deaths, painful as they had been at the time, had turned out to be useful. She now had a database of her father’s acquaintances, some of whom could be valuable information sources. She scanned through that list now, flagging individuals who might be both receptive to her approach and likely to have access to pertinent information. 

The name that came to the top of her list would have surprised her three years ago; she had been startled and deeply moved by the outpouring of genuine sympathy from the VP of Operations at Conobar Transport, her father’s company. Most of Conobar’s senior staff had been polite and appropriately compassionate, in a distant, corporate sort of way. Only Varel had taken the time to really speak with her beyond the stock pleasantries and platitudes. Despite having been originally hired by her father’s business partner, he had come to respect and deeply admire Bryce Cousland, and her family’s tragic deaths had impacted him more sharply than Alexia would have predicted. Varel had been an unexpected and welcome source of comfort in the immediate aftermath of the tragedy, and now he might prove a valuable ally as well. 

While not a financial wizard himself – Varel’s strengths lay more in managing logistics – he was well acquainted with several account experts, both inside Conobar Transport and elsewhere. If there was anyone she could count on to track down the mercs’ funding source and do so discreetly, it would be Varel. 

Alexia composed a careful message to him explaining, in vague terms, where her information had come from and what she needed. She attached the files she had gotten at the officer briefing, ran the entire thing through the strongest encryption software she had access to, and sent it to Varel at his private account rather than the corporate one. 

The rest of the names she had flagged to contact were diplomats on the Citadel who had maintained ties with her father after he’d left public service to form his company. They were far more likely to have information on the potential turian connection to Ostagar – or as she was growing to suspect, lack of connection. Alexia narrowed her list down to the people she thought were most likely to have the necessary connections, be receptive to her request, and keep things to themselves. She sent messages to the top three candidates, hoping that was a broad enough net to yield results without catching unwanted attention. In addition to asking about turian connections with the colony, she included a basic query about the renewed colonization interest, on the off chance that there might be more to that story than the publicly available version. 

With those messages away and no scheduled shift for the afternoon, there was nothing for Alexia to do but try to relax and wait for her contacts to hopefully follow through and either confirm her hunches or let her know she was way out of her depth. Not that those were mutually exclusive. 

 

Cousland ducked behind cover as a projectile encased in a purple ball of energy shot her way. She heard the sizzling, shattering sound of metal being bathed in phasic energy and cracking under impact. 

“What the hell is that thing?” The marine sharing her cover was wide-eyed, and Alexia frowned in concern. This was not a good time to panic. 

“It’s called an armature.” She kept her voice level, matter-of-fact, hoping to steady him. “Geth heavy assault platform. That pulse cannon is designed to rip through vehicle shielding, so don’t let it touch you unless you want your barriers fried out.” 

The private nodded, appearing to regain his composure, and leaned out from the other side of the cover to take a few shots during the brief period of safety while the armature’s main weapon recharged. 

Cousland followed suit, taking out one of the smaller geth units supporting the armature and wishing her words had a similar calming effect on herself. Until today, she would have said that her Academy training had left her incredibly well prepared to face geth on the battlefield. Now that she was actually doing it, though, she was discovering there was a large gap between theory and practice when it came to combat against synthetics. 

All of her instincts were wrong. The enemy didn’t have morale to break or bolster, so their tactics were based on purely logical algorithms. Cousland had known that going in, but it didn’t do her much good because she wasn’t able to effectively exploit the knowledge. The middle of combat wasn’t the best time to analyze the odds and extrapolate the most logically sound strategic course of action for your opponents. Unless, of course, you were a synthetic life form capable of doing calculations at the speed of the fastest parallel-processing super-computer. 

When Commander Guerrin had informed her that the Nairobi was going to mop up a pocket of geth on a moon in the nearby Arbor system, Cousland had been pleased. This was a big part of what she had trained for since the Alliance brass considered the geth an emerging threat that new officers should be prepared to face. This encounter would be a chance to prove herself after the disastrous first mission on Ostagar. She had been excited to suit up with this new unit, to get onto the field of combat and demonstrate her Academy-honed skills. 

She was feeling a lot less confident and eager now. Guerrin’s unit worked together smoothly, a result of months or years of shared experience. Even Theirin had integrated into the group well. He’d served under Guerrin before, right after coming out of basic, so it made sense that he would adapt well to the familiar leadership and tactics. She was pleased to see him finding a niche and feeling less isolated. But it only left Cousland feeling even more awkward and out of place, the only marine in the group who was out of sync, even if it was by a barely-noticeable fraction. It was probably largely her imagination, but it still grated. She wasn’t used to feeling incompetent or superfluous. The experience was both humbling and incredibly frustrating. 

The metal structure Cousland was taking cover behind shook and sizzled again under another hit from the armature’s pulse cannon. She didn’t think it hold out for much longer under concentrated fire from an anti-tank weapon, so she needed to think of a counter-attack strategy fast. Cousland peeked out in the lull between pulse blasts, shooting the leg off a smaller geth and scanning the field for better tactical positions. An idea took form, and she pointed out a location to the other marine, indicating that he should move on her signal. 

She waited for one more cannon attack, confirming her assumptions about its recharge time, before signaling her fellow soldier and darting from cover. The armature hurled smaller projectiles as soon as she broke into the open, but her kinetic barrier diverted those easily. She ignored them, running full out to reach a place of safety before the cannon finished recharging. 

By the time the armature powered up its primary weapon again, she and the other marine had reached cover positions that allowed them to flank the massive attack platform. It was forced to choose one of two targets, leaving itself vulnerable to focused attack from the other. In between cannon blasts, Alexia dedicated her shots to eliminating the rest of the armature’s support geth. Her success in doing so drew the massive synthetic’s attention, and she was forced back into huddling behind cover as it threw blast after blast of concentrated fire at her position. 

Cousland couldn’t see what was going on, pinned down as she was, but the constant stutter of small arms fire she heard over the vwoosh of the pulse cannon and the creaking shudders of her cover gave her hope that the rest of the squad was still up and fighting back. 

Then she remembered the other problem in dealing with armatures. If the private hadn’t known what the thing was, he probably wasn’t aware of the last trick the synthetic had in its repertoire. Just as she flicked her comm link on to warn him, the concentrated fire shaking her cover abated. She cursed under her breath and then radioed anyway. “Did it just curl up and hunker down?” 

“Yes, ma’am!” The marine sounded exultant. “Figure that means it’s on its last legs. Must’ve shorted out something important. I’m gonna finish the metal bastard off.” 

Cousland sighed. “Negative. Belay that. It’s in regeneration mode, and the shields it puts up to hibernate are damn near impenetrable. Don’t waste your clip. When it gets back up, we hit it hard and fast. The only way to take these things out is to do damage quicker than they can repair it.” She switched to a broader comm channel. “Anyone else nearby free to help whittle down an armature once it comes out of stasis?” 

Several voices responded in the affirmative, and she saw a handful of armored forms take up positions surrounding the huddled armature. As it unfolded from its crouch, Cousland imagined there was a tone of surprise in the whirring and clicking noises it made when bullets began slamming into it from all directions. With so many additional guns trained on a single target, the reduction in firepower when someone had to duck out of the way of a pulse cannon blast was almost negligible. They wore through the synthetic behemoth’s renewed shields in no time, and stutters of assault rifle fire were quickly followed by slugs striking sparks from the armature’s metal plating or tearing through its hardware. 

The armature went through another round of repair, but when it came out of its stasis mode the second time, it still looked significantly worse for the wear. Cousland thumbed on her comm. “Hit it with everything you’ve got. I want to see that thing go down before its fourth cannon blast. Think you can do it?”

Her order was met with a chorus of “Aye aye, ma’am” and one “Damn straight we can, lieutenant”, followed by an almost deafening roar of weapons fire. The armature literally staggered under the assault, and Cousland felt her face stretch into a fierce battle rictus of a grin as she added her shots to the mix. 

The armature didn’t even get a chance to fire a third time before it collapsed into a heap of slag. 

A ragged cheer went up as the synthetic fell. Cousland resisted the urge to join in, preparing instead to broadcast across the wide-band channel to find out if there was an area of the combat that could use reinforcement by her impromptu squad. 

Before she got the chance, the comm clicked on. “Good work today, all of you. That appears to have been the last of them, so rendezvous at the shuttle. Keep an eye out in case the scans missed one or two.” Commander Guerrin paused, and it wasn’t clear whether his final comment came across the broad channel or a narrower one just to her. “And Cousland? Well done.” 

Alexia smiled broadly. Maybe she was starting to find her place in this group after all. 

 

By about five minutes into the next officer briefing, Alexia was no longer quite so excited about the honor of being included in these meetings. 

The main topic under discussion was still the data recovered from Ostagar, but judging by the agenda, there wasn’t a lot new to say about it. Captain Dryden was clearly frustrated by the lack of progress. Her manner was abrupt as she called the meeting to order, and she was terse with Justine when she yielded the floor to the data expert. 

“The Ostagar colony files were even more trashed than we’d initially thought.” Justine sighed, pulling them up on her holographic display for general viewing. The information that flickered across was meaningless to Alexia, which was apparently the point. “Everything we’re getting is garbage. Most of it’s totally incomprehensible, and even when we manage to get a few words, the pieces don’t line up with each other. We’re trying new recovery systems to extract some additional information out of the scramble, but honestly… don’t hold your breath. Whoever trashed the place must have scrubbed it first. Between the two, I don’t know how much we’re going to be able to recover.” 

Dryden’s dark expression made even more sense in light of that report. Recovering the colony’s data had been the Nairobi’s primary mission on Ostagar, and being able to report success on that would have somewhat lessened the blow of the devastating crew losses experienced there. Without the information, Dryden had nothing to hold up to her superiors – or herself – that would justify the danger her people had been subjected to. 

“We need that data.” The captain’s words echoed Alexia’s thoughts. “If the original files are corrupted or damaged, our best hope is that the mercenaries made a copy of whatever they were after . If we find them, we find it.” 

Lieutenant Commander Athlar picked up smoothly from there, his tone professionally neutral and controlled. “The task force has continued working with the data obtained from the devices carried by the deceased mercenaries. As alluded to at our previous meeting, the initial trail from their communications and credit transactions led to a turian company with ties to the military structure, and thus the government.” He frowned, pausing to let the officers come to terms with that idea. “Clearly, that’s a problematic implication, and we want to be absolutely sure we’re right before we move forward with that information. But we’re hitting dead ends. The turians – or whoever’s ultimately behind this – are smart; they covered their tracks. We’re still digging, but it’s slow going. I’ll update you again when we know more.” 

Captain Dryden resumed control of the meeting at that point, but Alexia quit paying full attention. It was clear that there was no new information, so anything the captain was saying was pure speculation or unnecessary reminders about the critical nature of this assignment. 

Alexia wanted to tell them all that they were wasting their time: the information they were spending so much effort to decode was useless. She knew she was right, but she bit her tongue and waited the meeting out. She couldn’t back up her claim solidly enough to prove it to the brass. At least not yet. She’d heard back from Varel just that morning, and his message fell into place perfectly with her gut feeling that the whole situation was off. 

While the Captain continued through the rest of the meeting agenda, covering a multitude of minor details that ultimately didn’t concern a junior lieutenant, Alexia pulled back up Varel’s message, the decrypted version rather than the file he had originally sent her. 

**Lieutenant,  
I can’t tell you how pleased I am to call you that. You’ve more than earned it, and I am quite certain your father would be incredibly proud of you. Since he isn’t available, I hope you’ll accept some of that parental pride from a poor substitute like myself. **

Alexia was glad she’d chosen to wait until she was in her quarters to decrypt the message. She’d originally made the decision for reasons of secrecy, but it had the side benefit that no one else had been around to witness her unexpected crying bout at her private terminal. Once she’d been able to resolve text from the watery blur of her screen, she’d continued with the rest of the message. Now, in a room surrounded by her superior officers, she swallowed down the lump in her throat and quickly moved on to the rest of the message. 

**I was pleased to hear from you, and I’m honored you feel you can trust me. I understand the circumspect nature of this material, and I have been judicious in choosing to share it. I have consulted three internal experts, providing each with only a piece of the data to limit its spread. All three gave me the same answer: this is a frame job. The turian corporation is an attempt to mislead investigation and obscure the true source of the funding. Perhaps my experts have reached different conclusions than those on your end because they are accustomed to the complex financial tangles of corporate accounting rather than straightforward, rigid military hierarchy.**

**I have some indication that this may be part of a bigger picture than we might have initially assumed. I don’t want to say more before I have something to tell you, but in light of my suspicions, I have contacted an outside consultant who has done good work for me in the past. If there are broader implications to this issue, I am quite certain he will find them. You can expect to hear about his conclusions as soon as I have them. Clearly, time is of the essence if additional Alliance lives, including yours, may be put in harm’s way over this matter.**

**Fondest regards,  
Varel**

Reading through the final paragraph again, Alexia frowned. She appreciated that he didn’t want to reveal suspicions without anything concrete to back them up. Wasn’t she doing precisely the same thing? Even so, the vagueness was maddening. Varel had strongly stated that he didn’t believe the turian government was involved, so what could he mean about a bigger picture with broader implications? Alexia could think of lots of ways that might be interpreted, and none of them were good. 

Feeling eyes on her, she set down her datapad and glanced around the room. Commander Guerrin was watching her, and when she looked his direction, he quirked one eyebrow up in inquiry. She let her eyes slide past as if she hadn’t noticed, carefully smoothing her features so none of her thoughts would show up on her face. 

She didn’t need to draw any attention to herself right now; it would only result in people asking questions that she couldn’t answer. Yet. If Varel’s mysterious contractor was as good as he promised, hopefully that would change soon, but in the meantime, it would be better if she kept everything to herself. The Alliance didn’t generally approve of junior officers taking initiative and acting without permission from superiors, so her safest course of action was to make sure that no one suspected she was running down leads on her own until she had something solid enough to prove her breach in protocol had been worth it. 

 

After several days of waiting to hear back from Varel and his specialist consultant, Alexia was pretty sure she had spun through every possible insane conspiracy scenario she could come up with. Each one was more outlandish than the last, and she was seriously starting to question her judgment in pursuing this at all. 

Maybe she was seeing a pattern because she so desperately wanted to find one. Maybe Varel’s experts thought it looked like a corporate cover-up because that was what they were trained to look for. Maybe all of this was a result of her own deluded quest to make meaning out of the senseless deaths she’d witnessed on Ostagar. If there was a grand conspiracy, there was someone to blame, a reason all of those people had died. 

But she knew as well as anyone that life didn’t always work that way. Maybe it really had been a rogue mercenary group, and the reason no one could track down the bigger picture was that there simply wasn’t one to find. Every instinct she had screamed against it being a coincidence, but how could she be sure she wasn’t just desperately trying to find structure in random, meaningless events? The more she thought about it, the more she got tangled up in her own head, and the less she trusted her judgment about anything. 

The only thing she was certain of was that continuing to pace the length of her tiny cabin while ranting out loud was definitely not helping. Since she couldn’t trust her own objectivity right now, she needed someone other than a reflection of her own thoughts to talk to. And she was pretty sure there was one person on this ship who would understand where her head was when it came to Ostagar. 

She found Alistair sitting by himself in one of the small crew lounges. He glanced up when she paused in the door, suggesting he wasn’t in the middle of anything too engrossing, so she decided not to feel guilty about interrupting. 

“Just the person I was looking for,” she said with a smile, entering the room and dropping wearily to a seat. “I could use someone to talk to other than the bulkheads in my cabin. Do you have a few minutes?”

“Of course.” He set down the datapad he’d been reading from, thumbing it off. “I can’t promise any great advice or insight, but if you’re looking for me to listen, nod, and smile or frown in the right places, I’m excellent at that.” 

She offered him a brief smile before tilting her head back to stretch tense muscles in her shoulders and neck. “It sounds like an improvement over pacing and talking to myself until I lose my mind.” 

“If that’s what I have to compete against, I’m willing to give it a shot.” 

“Thanks. I appreciate it.” Alexia paused, trying to gather her scattered thoughts and then gave it up as a lost cause. “It’s about Ostagar.” 

Alistair winced at the name, and she saw shadows flicker across his eyes. She wanted to reach out to comfort him, but she hesitated, and the moment passed before she could decide if it would be appropriate. 

“So that’s why you wanted me. Local expert and all that.” He laughed, somewhat weakly. “Anyone who has more experience with that place than the two of us has been dead for a decade.” 

“That’s part of it.” Alexia nodded. “Also, I’m hoping I can trust you to tell me if I’ve lost my mind without reporting me for a psych eval.” 

“You can count on me. I keep well away from the shrinks. You start with, ‘I’m worried about my friend,’ and next thing you know it’s all father issues and abandonment anxiety and overcompensation through humor.” His cheeks flushed slightly. “But, um, to be clear, not _that_ kind of overcompensation.” 

She chuckled, and Alistair shifted uncomfortably, crossing his legs. “Let’s, uh, get back to your problems.”

Alexia’s amusement dampened almost immediately. She tried to run a hand through her hair, a habitual gesture of frustration, forgetting it was bound back into the style she’d adopted in the Academy to meet regulations. Her fingers tangled and caught, pulling a few strands free from the tight knot on the back of her head. Huffing with irritation, she stood and began pacing again, needing a physical outlet. 

“It’s the mercenaries on Ostagar. I just can’t make sense of why they were there.” She turned sharply on her heel, finding the lounge nearly as confining as her quarters despite the larger space. “I mean, why them? If this is all about getting computer files, why send that specific set of mercenaries?” 

“Maybe someone wanted to get rid of them for a while, and it was the furthest place they could think of to send them?” She paused mid-step to stare at him incredulously. “If they worked for me, I’d find a reason not to have them underfoot. Vorcha make terrible houseguests.” 

Alexia froze for a second in shock before exploding. “Screw the vorcha.” She strode furiously across the lounge to stand in front of Alistair, towering over where he sat leaning back from her sudden raging. “Those were krogan elite shock troops. Do you have any idea what it takes to hire, motivate, and transport those? This wasn’t done on a whim. It isn’t a game. There was a reason for this!” 

“Aren’t you the one who told me there aren’t reasons for things like this?” The mixture of surprise and pain on his face cooled her anger. He’d been hurt enough by this situation, and it was needlessly cruel of her to take her frustration out on him. 

“That was about them dying and us living. Mercenary deployment has a reason. Maybe not a bigger-purpose meaning, but whoever hired them did it for a reason. That’s the part that I can’t make sense of.” Suddenly shaky, she dropped into a seat next to him. Hunching forwards with her elbows on her knees, she buried her face in her hands. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…” 

“No, you’re upset.” Alistair’s voice sounded surprisingly level and sympathetic for someone she had just been yelling at. She heard a rustle of clothing as he moved, probably giving her more room. “I shouldn’t have made a joke of it. Um, I did mention the inappropriate use of humor, right?” 

Alexia lifted her head from her hands and turned to face him, a half-smile tugging at the side of her mouth. “I thought we were sticking to my issues here.” 

He returned her grin, and she straightened up, lolling her head back against the chair and trying to let go of some of the tension she’d been holding for days. Alexia stared at the ceiling and searched for words. It wasn’t like she really knew anything yet, and what little she suspected wasn’t fair to share with Alistair. If she screwed up and got disciplined for this unsanctioned goose chase, there was no point in dragging him into it with her. She wasn’t sure what she was hoping to accomplish beyond feeling less alone. Maybe that was enough. “I really am sorry, though. You didn’t deserve that. I’m just… so on edge right now. Because either I’m crazy or everyone else is asking the wrong questions and missing something big.” 

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re crazy. Then again, my judgment’s questionable.” He chuckled softly. “And besides, it’s not allowed for enlisted marines to say an officer’s crazy, even if we do think it a lot.” After an awkward pause, he added, “Not about you, of course.” 

Amused, she tilted her head to look at him. “Would you admit it if you did?”

“Of course not, ma’am. That would be against the rules.” 

Alexia smirked at his continued exaggerated use of formality. “Some help you are.” But she was smiling as she said it, so he had been, even if she was no closer to having any answers. With a sigh, she pulled herself to her feet. “I should get back to work. I’m sure there’s something I’ve been neglecting while obsessing over this mess.” 

She paused at the door on the way out of the lounge, turning back. “Alistair?” She waited until he looked up, meeting her gaze, to make sure her sincerity came across. “Thanks for listening. It helps not to feel alone.” 

That earned her a warm, sincere smile that made him look much younger than the jaded, self-deprecating smirks she was used to seeing. “Any time.”


	3. Chapter 3

Alexia flexed her hands inside her armored gauntlets, clenching and stretching her fingers. It was the biggest expression of nerves she was willing to make, sitting in the shuttle surrounded by the rest of Commander Guerrin’s squad. This mission felt wrong to her, and she was convinced it was a mistake. But that decision wasn’t hers to make. 

At the last officer briefing, Lieutenant Commander Athlar had reported on progress in tracking down the rest of the mercenary company. He had identified a base on a planet called Brandel’s Reach that his intel identified as belonging to the same merc group that had hit the Nairobi’s crew on Ostagar. That had been all the information Captain Dryden needed to set a course and authorize a strike to retrieve any and all data files on the premises. 

To be fair, when they’d arrived in the system, the captain had attempted to gain further information before greenlighting the mission. Scans confirmed that the base was occupied and armed, and their initial hails had been met with hostility. That had been enough, and Guerrin’s team was going in expecting significant resistance and heavy violence. 

Before Alexia had time to work herself up any more about what they were headed into, Commander Guerrin called for everyone’s attention to lay out the specifics of their game plan. He pulled up a best-guess floor plan for the base, highlighting several entrances, the data storage core they were after, and places that were likely to be heavily fortified. “We’re going in via multiple entry points, coordinated strikes. They probably know we’re coming, one way or another, so we’ve got to hit them harder and faster than they’re expecting. Throw them off guard, and we’ve got a real shot at punching a hole in their defenses that will get us in and back out with a minimum of risk. 

“I’ll be leading the data retrieval team.” He focused in on the computer core, tracing a line from one of the entrances. “We go in here and follow this path. It’s the shortest route and hopefully the fastest, but it takes us past some likely checkpoints. Rhys, you’ll be heading a heavy squad with the objectives of making sure we get in and holding us a route out.” 

The biotic lieutenant nodded acknowledgment of the order. His face was set in a rigid, concerned frown. Alexia didn’t know the man well, but she got the sense that he wasn’t entirely comfortable in combat conditions. Of course, gifted biotics in the Alliance rarely had the option of non-combat assignments; their talents were too valuable not to utilize. 

Guerrin continued, assigning squads to specific entrances and choke points. Alexia was startled to hear him call her name at the end of the list. 

“Cousland, you’ll be holding this entrance.” She made a note of the door he indicated. “That’s our most viable exit point, so there is no fallback. It has to stay open if any of us have a chance of getting out of this.” 

“Aye aye, sir. Understood.” 

“You don’t have a usual squad yet, so I’m tasking you with Rodriguez, Kennedy, Forester, and Theirin for this mission.” Alexia nodded, trying to keep her thoughts off her face. She was shocked to be assigned a squad and somewhat suspicious to have Theirin assigned to her command. There was some logic in placing him in her group since he wasn’t integrated into an existing squad that would be disrupted by his absence, but she couldn’t shake the thought that this entire assignment was a test. Of course, it was; Guerrin wanted to assess the new junior officer that had fallen into his command. The only real question was exactly what he was trying to figure out about her. 

Guerrin paused after completing the assignments, giving them all a chance to study the map and locate their intended place. “Everyone clear on their role and objectives?” 

A wave of assent echoed through the shuttle. Alexia thought she heard as much determined defiance in it as confidence. It was both comforting and unsettling to realize she wasn’t the only one harboring doubts about their current mission. 

 

The marines’ entry into the Brandel’s Reach merc base went pretty much as anticipated. They organized and executed a coordinated strike on multiple points at once and were met with heavy resistance. Several of the marine squads opened with grenades, trying to give themselves a measure of surprise and create a window of opportunity for gaining a minimally-contested foothold. 

Cousland let the other squad assigned to her entry point plow in the door first to get a head start on reaching their assigned choke point. She brought her squad in after them, taking up defensible positions near the door they had been ordered to hold. They planned to stay here for a while, so they might as well pick good locations to dig in. 

As soon as the smoke from the grenades cleared and she got a good look at the mercenaries they were up against, Cousland’s stomach clenched. She’d known there was something off about this mission. Setting her radio for a narrow channel, she contacted Commander Guerrin, speaking in a low voice that wouldn’t carry to the rest of her squad. “Sir, these aren’t the mercs from Ostagar. They may be mostly batarian, but the insignia is all wrong.” 

The commander’s voice sounded resigned when he responded. “I’m aware of that, lieutenant. Unfortunately, it doesn’t matter. We’re already committed. There’s a chance the two groups are connected, and we’re still under orders to obtain whatever information they have.” 

“Understood, sir. Get what you need. We’ll hold the door for you.” 

“I’m counting on it, lieutenant.”

Cousland smiled grimly and prepared to make good on her promise. “Get comfortable, squad. This is our position, and we’re staying here until every single marine in this unit is safely through that door.” She paused while her assigned marines chorused enthusiastic agreement. “But I don’t plan on sitting here waiting while they do all the work. Take whatever targets you can get without sacrificing this position. The more heat we draw off the retrieval team, the sooner we’re all off this rock and back on the Nairobi.” 

Suiting action to words, she raised her assault rifle and took aim at a batarian mercenary hounding Commander Guerrin’s squad. He was at the edge of her range, so the shots didn’t make a huge impact in terms of damage. But they accomplished her primary goal of drawing attention to her group’s position and, more importantly, away from the data retrieval team. Her batarian target signaled a few of his comrades who peeled off from the main group to confront Cousland and her marines. 

Cousland peppered the approaching mercenaries with fire from her assault rifle, sparking energy from their kinetic barriers. Gunfire began chattering and booming from nearby positions as her squad joined in. As the pressure intensified, the batarians ducked into cover of their own, and the two groups began exchanging more measured fire. 

The next several minutes were an exercise in frustration. Holding this position at the exit significantly limited their options for effectively targeting the mercenaries they were facing. At one point, Cousland’s entire squad was pinned down by a single sniper operating out of range of their return fire. Fortunately, Corporal Forester carried a sniper rifle of his own. While the rest of the squad hunkered down behind cover, he was eventually able to eliminate the threat so the team could return to action. It was a brief period, but Cousland hated every second of it. She was never comfortable being powerless, however temporarily. 

The chatter coming across the comms from the rest of the unit didn’t make things any easier. It sounded like the groups heading further into the base were running into heavy resistance, and Cousland suspected they would be dragging some casualties back to the shuttle, hopefully still breathing. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to hold her assigned position. No matter how badly she wanted to go to the aid of her fellow soldiers, her team’s mission was keeping this exit open. Logically, she knew that it wouldn’t do any good to save people now only for them to all get cut off from the escape routes and end up trapped in the base together. But that didn’t make it any easier to listen to the periodic screams of pain coming across the radio. 

“Come on, Guerrin,” she muttered under her breath. “Get those files and let’s get the hell out of this place.” 

After far too long, the commander finally radioed that they had retrieved the files and were making their way back to the extraction point. 

Cousland sighed in relief and then squared her shoulders. Now the real work began. “That’s our cue. They’ve got what we came for, so there’s no reason to slow down and admire the scenery on the way out. It’s our job to make sure they don’t have to.” 

She rescanned the room they were in, carefully noting the distribution of mercenary forces around the area. Her team had been fine in their highly defensible positions, but anyone coming from the other direction and would be trying to cross a wide open killing zone. There was no way she could let the other teams walk into that, especially not with their own problems following them out. They’d end up caught between the two groups with minimal cover, and the Alliance marines would get flanked and shredded. There was no way Cousland was letting that happen. 

“Holding the door is still our primary objective, but we need to clear a path.” Given the situation, she couldn’t spare more than one of her soldiers without weakening their position. If she was only sending one marine to take heat off the rest of the unit, it had to be someone she could trust to keep it together. “Theirin, go make them an opening. I want to see a nice clear path to guide everybody out of here. Corporal, if you’ve still got that rifle handy, let’s see what you can do to support him from here.” 

They both acknowledged her orders and moved to comply. The distant sound of small arms fire got closer as the rest of the unit approached the rendezvous point. Cousland watched as Theirin advanced from cover position to cover position, making calculated assaults to thin the ranks of the batarian mercenaries arrayed against them. She hated standing there, powerless to provide covering fire for one of her soldiers as he moved out of range. Thankfully, Forester was a pretty decent sniper. He was generally able to take out any mercs that had Theirin pinned down from a position he couldn’t retaliate against. 

Between the two of them, they whittled down the number of mercenaries noticeably before the bulk of the marines reached the entry room. Which was good, given the number of mercs that poured into the room with them. Cousland wouldn’t have been surprised to hear that every single batarian on Brandel’s Reach was on their tail. As the running battle of Guerrin’s tactical retreat spilled out of the corridor into the larger space, complete chaos erupted. 

As the firefight escalated, Cousland quickly lost track of exactly where anyone was outside of her squad. Her focus was entirely on holding the door with them while picking off any opposing forces who got within range of her assault rifle. Everything beyond that was a mass of gunfire, kinetic barriers sparking as they deflected bullets, the flash and smoke of grenades, and the occasional cry of pain. She tried to take comfort from the fact that more of the screams sounded alien than human, but there were still too many of the latter for her to relax. 

Guerrin must have seen an opening to order a retreat. Alliance troops began surging towards the exit in an organized, systematic fashion. Most of the first out took up positions reinforcing Cousland’s squad, holding the door open for their fellows. A few – likely those most badly injured – continued past, presumably making their way to the shuttle at the evac point. Cousland kept a tally of every soldier that exited. Holding the door was her primary assignment, so she needed a sense of how many troops were clear and how much longer she’d need to keep it open. 

Cousland continued to hold her position, counting the marines that exited and watching others gather in as the fight became concentrated around the egress. The local firefight intensified as the marines grouped up. Soon she became too busy to do much beyond tallying the casualties as they exited and identifying friend from foe at the downstream end of her rifle. Gradually, her mental count of marines through the door ticked up to the point that it had to represent full withdrawal rather than evacuation of wounded, and the number of bullets in the air thinned as the troop levels diminished. The group of Alliance forces had been reduced to a knot of resistance drawn up around the exit point. Guerrin eventually ended up close enough that Cousland could hear him ordering individual squads out in a deliberately chosen pattern. 

She suddenly remembered that she had a squad she was responsible for. A quick check confirmed that most of them were still holding their original positions – or something close to them – guarding the exit. But she had no idea where Theirin was. She’d lost track of him in the maelstrom of the fighting, and she hadn’t bothered to identify soldiers as they evacuated, just kept count of numbers. Some officer she was! One of the men she was responsible could be actively engaged in combat, safely back on the shuttle, or injured so badly he was out of commission. And she couldn’t say which. 

Unbidden, an image rose to her mind of Alistair when they’d first met on Ostagar, terrified and in pain, sitting in a pool of his own blood, joking and offering her a weak but determined smile. She fought down the immediate panicked urge to start searching for him. Instead, she set her comm to a narrow frequency that would target only her assigned soldiers. “Squad, status report.” 

The answers came quickly: “Holding position as ordered, ma’am.” “Awaiting your order, lieutenant.” “Running out of damned thermal clips and too pinned down to get more.” “My kinetic barrier’s pretty well shot, but at least I haven’t been.” 

The last of those voices was the one she’d been waiting for, and she sighed out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. “Good work, all of you. Hold out a little bit longer. We get the last few marines out the door, and then we can close it after them.” 

Cousland wasn’t surprised to see the commander in the middle of the last squad to fall back to her group’s position, the final ones out of the fight. She was relieved to recognize Theirin in the group of marines that came with him. 

“You’re the last, sir?” Her question was largely a formality, but it needed to be asked. Her count of soldiers going out didn’t tally with the number of troops they’d brought in, and she had to confirm that no one was being left behind inadvertently. 

Guerrin’s brisk nod told her everything she needed to know, and she restrained her wince as he confirmed her suspicion of the casualty level. There would be time enough to grieve for the fallen later, once she and her men were no longer at risk of joining them. 

As the commander waved his team through the door, Cousland and her squad hung back to provide cover fire. Guerrin nodded approvingly and signaled them to withdraw once the others were out. Cousland and her team carefully backed towards the exit, maintaining cover as much as possible and providing suppressing fire for one another when they could. There were some close calls, sending dramatic ricochets from kinetic barriers, but everyone made it safely out of the building. 

Once the door closed behind them, Cousland took time for a single sigh of relief before joining the others in double-timing it towards the shuttle for evac. Brandel’s Reach was another planet she would be happy to see the last of. 

 

Alexia wasn’t surprised when Captain Dryden announced at the next officer briefing that the raid on the mercenary base had been a dead end. Analysis of the retrieved files had confirmed what she suspected from the moment they’d entered the base. It was the wrong mercenary group, and nothing in their data yielded any clues or connections to the company from Ostagar. 

The captain was understandably frustrated. She had just sent her troops to fight, bleed, and in some cases die, on the basis of faulty intelligence. Justine defended her work fervently. The data trail leading to that base had been the best conclusion she could reach with the information she had available. Captain Dryden stood by her “miracle worker” tech’s skills, which left her with two conclusions, neither of which was particularly palatable. 

“Either the files are too badly damaged to give us anything useful, or we’re being deliberately fed false information.” Dryden fixed Justine with a particularly piercing, narrow-eyed stare. “Find out which.”

 

There was a message from Varel waiting when Alexia returned to her quarters after the meeting. It had actually arrived that morning, and as much as she was hoping for news, she had shied away from listening to it right away. He had sent a voice message rather than text, despite the increased expense of sending audio data halfway across the galaxy, and it worried her. If he felt the need to make the message personal, whatever he had found was big and likely emotionally charged. She couldn’t imagine what that would mean in this context, and she hadn’t been ready to face it before an officer meeting where she needed to maintain a professional demeanor. Now that the meeting was over, she didn’t have an excuse to put it off any longer. 

Reluctantly, she sat down at her terminal, unscrambled the encrypted file, put in ear buds for privacy, and started the message playing. 

“Alexia, it’s Varel. I said I would let you know once my consultant found something, and I think he has.” He sounded as hesitant as she felt, stalling with unnecessary salutations. Alexia tensed in preparation for whatever was coming. “I don’t know how to explain this, and to be honest I’m finding it hard to believe myself. But this consultant – Vardo Amell – he’s one of the best there is. I trust his work, even if… it doesn’t make any sense yet.” 

Varel paused for a breath, continuing in a more measured, forcibly controlled tone. “Alexia, the credit trail from these mercenaries intersects with the funding stream for the pirates who attacked your family’s ship. Vardo thinks it may have been a deliberate strike rather than a target of opportunity. I’m sorry to bring this up when the wound is still fresh and I can only make it worse. But I thought you would want to know. 

“Vardo’s still looking through the files, and he says patterns may be starting to emerge. Nothing he’ll commit to with any certainty yet, but I want to warn you that this may get worse. I’m so sorry to do this to you, but I know you’re a strong girl and you can handle it. Your father would be proud. Take care of yourself out there, and I’ll be in touch.” 

Alexia’s hand shook as she reached for the terminal console, and it took her a second try to hit the button that stopped the message from looping back to the beginning and replaying. She pulled out the ear buds and dropped them carelessly beside the terminal before pushing away from the screen and dragging herself to her feet. Her legs felt weak as she staggered the mercifully few short steps to her bunk, collapsing onto it with her back against the bulkhead and her knees pulled tight to her chest. 

She had finally come to terms with the idea that her entire family had been slaughtered by pirates, their ship plundered for its suspected wealth. While she didn’t think she could ever understand it emotionally, she had come to accept it as an act of random, senseless brutality in a sometimes meaningless galaxy. To have Varel suggest it hadn’t been a coincidence… She didn’t know how to handle that. How could she process the idea that the people she loved most in the universe had all been taken from her deliberately, as a calculated act of violent destruction? 

Serious important questions flickered through the edges of her thoughts – Who might have done this? Why? How could it possibly relate to Ostagar? – but she couldn’t grasp hold of them long enough to think about the implications. All of her logical impulses were shoved aside by a choking wave of shock and grief. It was almost like she was losing them all over again. 

Overwhelmed and heartsick, Alexia burrowed under her blanket, curling up on her side, hunching her body as tiny as she could make it, exactly as she had done in her bed at home when she’d first gotten the news of the attack. She shivered and stared blankly at the plain grey bulkhead across her small cabin with wide, dry eyes until she eventually slipped into unconsciousness.


	4. Chapter 4

After a night of indulging her grief, Alexia put personal issues aside and focused on doing her job, being the best marine and officer she was capable of being. She didn’t think the cracks in her control were showing, but there were times she could feel them there, feel herself slipping. 

At times like that, if she was off shift, she would find one of the small observation lounges. Or reading areas. Or cargo areas. Anywhere with a window and privacy would do. A comfortable place to sit was a welcome addition, but all she really cared about was quiet and a view of the stars. 

Watching starfields glide slowly by a ship’s window took her back to the long family trips of her childhood. The Couslands had traveled a lot when she was younger – whenever father was away on prolonged business and decided to take the family along, or when mother decided there was a system whose wonders they ought to experience in person rather than through holos. On rare occasions, they visited old friends that mother had served with or foreign diplomats father wanted to maintain cordial ties with. When she was twelve, Alexia had bet her brother that they’d spent more of the past year in artificial gravity than the real kind. Of course, the complicated math of calculating days during interstellar travel and on multiple planets with varying orbits meant that they had arrived at vastly different conclusions and been entirely unable to settle the dispute. They’d argued through masses of competing calculations for two days, neither of them willing to concede the point, before their father – in an effort to restore peace, family unity, and a modicum of quiet – had deleted both sets of files and sent them to opposite sides of the ship without datapads for the rest of the afternoon. 

At the time she’d been furious with her father and dismayed by the prospect of spending two whole hours alone and completely bereft of electronic entertainment. In retrospect, though, she remembered it as one of the most peaceful interludes of her life, sitting in that room with no distractions, staring out at the vastness of space, spinning hopes and dreams out of pure imagination. She’d tried to recapture that moment numerous times throughout her life, with varying degrees of success. Now, when she could most use some serenity and hope, the inky starfield studded with pinpricks of light only mimicked and reinforced the gaping emptiness she felt inside herself. 

It had been months since Alexia’s family was killed, but there were still days that she missed them more than she could stand. She longed for her mother’s strength, her father’s patience, Fergus’s energy and humor. It was an uncomfortable and lonely feeling to realize that everything they had shared – all of those childhood trips and experiences, all of the memories – was gone; she was now the only one who would remember any of it. It was like Fergus’s ready laugh, her mother’s gentle smile, father’s strong hugs had never existed. Outside of her head, none of it was real any more. Once time eroded something that existed only in her memory, it would be gone forever. And she knew that she couldn’t cling to all of it, that details were being lost despite her best efforts to hang on to them. It was like losing her loved ones all over again. 

Alexia heard the soft hiss of the door opening behind her and quickly raised her fingers to her cheeks, checking for tears. Thankfully, she didn’t find any. Straightening her shoulders, she turned to see the new arrival. 

She wasn’t entirely surprised to discover Alistair hovering slightly hesitantly in the doorway, probably doing a number on the door’s proximity sensors. When she looked up, he appeared to take it as invitation, coming the rest of the way in to the room and sitting down on the other end of the small couch. He gave her a friendly smile but didn’t say anything, turning to gaze out the window at the view she’d been studying. Alexia thought his attempt at “casual” could use some serious work, but she appreciated that he was making the effort. 

She returned to staring out the window, but the solitude she’d been looking for escaped her, chased away by the awkward fidgeting and sideways glances coming from the other side of the couch. 

Alistair managed to sit in silence for something approximating two minutes. “Something on your mind?” 

It turned out that he was even worse at sounding casual than looking it. 

Before Alexia could answer, he was talking again. “Not that you have to tell me. I mean, you can of course, but I’m not prying. I just thought you should know I’m here to listen if you want to talk about anything. Or if you don’t. I’m still here then, just not listening as much because you wouldn’t be saying anything. Um…” 

He trailed off, and Alexia felt her mouth draw up into a half smile. “Is this a new interrogation technique you’re practicing? You make the subject nervous on your behalf until they give in and start talking to make the awkwardness stop?” 

A sudden flush came to his cheeks, and his posture stiffened. “I’m sorry. I missed the ‘Do not enter’ sign on the door. I should just go.” 

“No, stay, please.” Alexia reached a hand out to catch his arm before he could fully rise from the couch. “That wasn’t kind of me.” She gave him a wry smile. “I seem to keep snapping at you when you’re trying to help. You were right, though; I could use a sympathetic ear. If your offer is still open.” 

Alistair settled back onto the couch. “I think you caught it before it expired.”

“Thank you.” Some of the tension went out of her shoulders, and she searched for words to begin. This was the first time she’d tried to talk about her family with someone who didn’t already know what had happened. Starting was harder than she had expected. 

Looking him square in the eyes, she plunged in. “Shortly before I applied to the Academy, there was a pirate attack.” 

As soon as the words came out of her mouth, she knew it was the wrong approach. That was too dispassionate, detached. She didn’t want to talk about the facts of the incident; she needed to share the emotional aftermath of the tragedy. 

Slowly shaking her head, she turned away from Alistair, staring back out the window and taking deep, even breaths. Watching the starfield was a little more soothing with company. She waited until words came to her and let them through without trying to analyze or control what she was saying. 

“My family traveled a lot, interstellar trips all over the galaxy. Some of it was father’s work, but I think that was an excuse as much as anything. My parents just liked being in space, hovering in the nothingness between two places. Everything is undefined out here, and the possibilities seem endless. Maybe that’s what I was trying to recapture by joining up. A sense of hope. A future.” 

She swallowed, fighting the grief that threatened to choke her throat closed. “I was supposed to be with them. The family trips had never stopped, even though Fergus and I grew up. Even though Fergus was married and had a child of his own. Mother and father still found reasons to include us – all of us – on their jaunts. I think it was their way of keeping us close, reminding us we were still a family, no matter how far apart life drew us.” 

“I’m hearing a lot of past tense.” Alistair sounded hesitant, like he wasn’t sure of his role in this conversation. That made two of them. But he’d offered to listen, and she was coming to realize just how much she needed someone to talk to. 

“Perceptive of you.” Alexia turned from the viewport and tried to smile at him, but judging by his deepening expression of concern, it came out as more of a grimace. 

Unable to face his expression of open compassion verging on pity, Alexia turned back to the impassive starscape. “There was a family trip scheduled. We were all going. I was supposed to be with them. But something came up, my plans changed, I canceled at the last minute. Mother was a bit disappointed, even if she tried to hide it, and Fergus scolded me for upsetting her, but he was teasing.” 

After a shaky breath, she continued, eyes fixed on distant points of light while her mouth listed tragedy as simple fact. “Their ship was attacked by pirates. No survivors, no hostages, no ransom. They were just gone, all of them. Mother, father, Fergus, Oriana, Oren. Everyone I loved, removed from the galaxy in a single senseless act.” 

“Lexia, I’m so sorry.” 

She felt a slight pressure and looked down to see that Alistair had taken her hand somewhere in the midst of that recitation. He rubbed her fingers gently, and the contact grounded her back in the moment. 

Seeing he had drawn her attention, Alistair appeared to flounder for a moment, trying to figure out what to do with it. “I… never really had much of a family, so I can’t imagine losing one. But I’m vastly experienced at feeling like you’re alone in the universe.” He paused, squeezing her hand and fixed her with an intent look that was almost painful in its sincerity. “You don’t have to feel that way, Lexia. You aren’t alone.” 

She looked away, blinking back sudden tears. Alexia had no idea what she’d been expecting. Honestly, she hadn’t intended to have this conversation at all. She was entirely unprepared for such an outpouring of sympathy and had no defenses against unexpected support when she was so used to handling things on her own. 

The silence stretched on for a few minutes, undefined but not uncomfortable. The light pressure and warmth of Alistair’s hand wrapped around hers helped to calm her in the same way as the infinite vistas of space. They were security, comfort, something steady to rely on and center herself from when everything else was in turmoil. 

She was startled when Alistair spoke again, even though he spoke softly, cautiously. “It’s not just Ostagar you’re living to make up for surviving, is it?” 

“No, it isn’t.” Alexia didn’t bother denying it. “I applied to the Academy right after the memorial services. I keep thinking that if I can make enough of a difference for someone else, maybe that will somehow balance it out, keep some other person from going through what I did. I know it’s silly, but…” She shrugged helplessly. 

“But it gives you a reason to get up in the morning.” 

Alexia blinked, startled at how accurately he’d echoed thoughts she couldn’t – or wouldn’t – articulate. The conversation had verged far beyond territory she knew how to approach, and it was starting to get uncomfortable being so far out of her depth. 

With a tiny half smile, she tried to drag them back to more solid footing. “I thought you were supposed to cover with humor. What are you doing being insightful?” 

A slow smile spread on Alistair’s face as he recognized and took her bait. His thumb rubbed idly across her knuckles. “Let’s stick to your problems.”

 

That conversation turned out to be an outlet Alexia had dearly needed without realizing it. Talking with Alistair, finding unexpected common ground, had given her hope that she didn’t have to be alone. While the bonds she had shared with her family were irrevocably lost to her, Alistair had shown her that she could form new connections. 

For the next two days, she felt more settled than she had since coming to the Nairobi. Maybe since starting at the Academy. It was a welcome change, and she thought that maybe she was finally coming to terms with what had happened to her family and making peace with her past. 

Until she received Varel’s next message. 

The previous audio message had made her nervous, but that was nothing compared to the shock of decrypting a video file. She couldn’t imagine what would be serious enough to prompt Varel to go to the expense of sending a video message halfway across the galaxy. Alexia knew she wouldn’t be able to think about anything else until she’d watched it, no matter how much she might want to avoid whatever Varel had to tell her. 

Steeling herself, she started the video playing. Alexia experienced a moment of shock as Varel’s face came up on the screen. He looked harrowed, the lines around his eyes and mouth deeper than usual, his face almost sagging with exhaustion and stress. The only time she had ever seen his composure crack like this was at her father’s memorial service. She almost stopped the message before he started speaking, not wanting to hear whatever had affected him this severely. Her finger hovered over the control, but she drew it back, forcing herself to face what was coming. Putting it off would just mean staying in limbo dreading it longer. It would be better to know the truth, however horrible. 

“Alexia, I’m so sorry to have to tell you this.” Varel’s voice sounded shaken, and Alexia’s heart clenched even tighter in her chest. “I thought it would be best to give the news as close to in person as I could.” He broke off with a frustrated sigh. “I’ve tried three times to record this message, and I don’t know how to say it.” 

The video flickered for a second before picking up again, likely a result of the recording having been paused and resumed. “I’ll start for you the same way it started for me, just after the change in corporate leadership at Conobar.” Alexia pressed her lips together and the veiled reference to her father’s death – or murder. “I’ve been going through the company’s finances, making sure everything was in order for the transitions. There were… irregularities. That was when I first brought in that outside consultant I mentioned. He agreed with all of my speculations and has taken conclusions a step further than I was comfortable with.”

The older man paused, shaking his head sadly. “I don’t want him to be right, but his evidence is convincing. And I’ve never known a salarian financial consultant to exaggerate about anything besides his own rate of pay.” He chuckled, then sighed. “I’m stalling. Alexia, there’s something very wrong here. Even I can see it in the numbers, once I started really looking at them. At the very least, company accounts are being used for money laundering or channeling, although Vardo says it should be more accurately termed misappropriation because he can’t find an external source, only outgoing funds.” 

Alexia frowned, wondering why Varel was telling her about corporate misconduct, why he seemed so shaken by it. Surely he wasn’t accusing her father? The very idea of anyone who’d known him believing it was preposterous, and she couldn’t imagine who would benefit from smearing Bryce Cousland’s name posthumously. 

“The money’s ultimately being funneled into mercenary accounts. It took Vardo a while to trace the transfers, but there’s no question that Conobar funds are ending up in the pockets of small-time mercenary groups.” He shook his head in disbelief. “There can’t be any legitimate business reason for it. None of the organizations in question run security operations in areas where we do business.” 

Alexia was stunned. It didn’t make any sense. Misuse of funds in that blatant a way was bound to be caught. How had any employee thought they could get away with something so egregious? It had to be an act of pure, unthinking desperation. 

She focused her attention back on the screen where Varel was continuing. “I wish I could tell you that was the worst of it.” Her heart froze. He couldn’t be implicating her father in this; he simply couldn’t. 

“On a hunch, I looked into other areas of the company’s finances. Alexia, your trust fund has been interfered with. You probably would have no reason to notice while on active duty, but you’ve been cut off. I don’t know how it was done; your father’s will was very clear in providing for his family should the worst occur. It can’t have been legal, and I’m sure it wouldn’t stand up to a challenge, should you bring one. But the assets are being drained dry. It’s questionable how much would be left by the time your rights were restored.” 

That was concerning, certainly. Alexia hadn’t bothered to look at the trust documents after her father’s lawyer had explained them to her in the days following the reading of the will. Since she’d joined the Alliance marines, she hadn’t tried to access the account once. What was she going to spend credits on in the middle of deep space? Varel was right; she probably wouldn’t have noticed the problem any time in the foreseeable future if he hadn’t brought it to her attention. 

But there was still a piece missing, something he wasn’t telling her. Nothing she had heard so far added up to the level of weariness and deep sadness etched into Varel’s face. 

“In putting all of the details together, both from Vardo’s investigations and my own, I’ve reached a conclusion that I find inescapable. I… can’t quite believe it, but I don’t see another answer. And believe me, I’ve looked.” He paused, taking a deep, measured breath, like a man about to plunge into freezing water. “I don’t want to prejudice your conclusions with my own. Perhaps you’ll see the solution I missed. I pray that you might find some other answer for this madness.

“I’m attaching the report from the consultant, as well as some of my own files, so you can see it for yourself. If you find any plausible answer beyond what I fear, please share it. I would welcome an alternative.”

He looked down, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing, before staring back into the camera. “I’m sorry to place these burdens on you, but I promise I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t think you were capable of handling them. From everything I’ve seen of you, you have your father’s wisdom and your mother’s strength. I think you may need both before this is over. Best wishes to you, Alexia, and again, I am sorry for subjecting you to this heartache. I would have avoided it if I could.” 

The video came to a stop, frozen on Varel’s strained, tired face. Alexia stared at the image for a while, wondering if she really wanted to see what was in the files he’d attached. Anything that had shaken his stern, unflappable composure to this extent wasn’t something she was eager to take responsibility for. But it didn’t matter; if he thought this impacted her family in some way, she had an obligation to deal with it. 

 

An hour later, Alexia had read and re-read the files Varel sent from his salarian financial consultant. By the fourth time, she wasn’t actually absorbing any new information, and she had to stop partway through because her hands were shaking so badly that it was either put the datapad down or drop it. She had reached the same conclusion that Varel hadn’t wanted to say aloud. 

It was Rendon. 

Rendon Howe, her father’s business partner, had hired the mercenary pirates who killed her family. It sounded crazy, even thinking it to herself, but she couldn’t make the numbers come out any other way. The consultant had laid out his impersonal, incontestable case in a series of credit transfers that drew a clear line between Conobar corporate accounts accessible at only the highest levels and payment accounts for the pirates responsible for the attack. Combined with the tampering to her trust – funneling of the funds into Rendon’s private accounts – there was no other conclusion. 

The numbers had convinced her brain, but emotionally, Alexia still couldn’t believe the betrayal. Rendon had been her father’s friend and business partner for years. When Bryce decided to leave full time diplomatic service to enter the corporate world, it had been his lifelong friend Rendon he turned to. They had founded Conobar Transport together and built it up from an idea to a galactic shipping presence. Their families had vacationed together; growing up, Alexia and Fergus had regarded Rendon’s children as something like cousins. As a teenager, Alexia had dated his oldest son. How could he do this? 

Why would he want to? Was it the money, sole control of the company? Alexia couldn’t think of any other way Rendon would benefit from her father’s death – or any reason to include Fergus and his family in the murder unless it was to eliminate all heirs and stakeholders. Alexia realized suddenly that joining the marines might have saved her life. Enrolling in the Academy immediately and heading straight onto shipboard service had kept her from having any reason to get involved in corporate affairs; it had even given someone – Rendon, she forced herself to remember – a chance to siphon off her trust fund unobserved. Being Alliance had removed her as a threat. Otherwise, would he have come after her, too, tying up loose ends? 

God, this was crazy! Ever since Ostagar, she’d become paranoid. How could she even suspect her father’s closest friend of having arranged the deaths of her entire family? Was she seriously sitting alone in her cabin calculating the likelihood that he was going to kill her, too? Maybe she needed to talk to the doctor about the possibility of PTSD from Ostagar. Was paranoia a common manifestation? It would almost be more comforting to think she was losing it than to accept that there was any truth in these crazy accusations. 

Except that didn’t explain Varel. Or the salarian financial consultant. Whoever he was and however Varel had found him, there was no possible way he could be emotionally connected to the situation. Alexia was pretty sure she wasn’t unhinged enough to begin hallucinating messages to support her conspiracy theories, which left her back where she had started: with no choice but to accept an unthinkable level of betrayal. 

She began scanning through the files again, barely seeing them, searching for something Varel had overlooked, something that gave an explanation that made sense. Rendon couldn’t have done this. He just couldn’t. 

 

Ultimately, after spending quite a bit longer staring at all of the information Varel had sent, Alexia was forced to reluctantly accept the same conclusion he had. Her initial reaction of shock and disbelief faded, replaced by a deep, aching grief and a smoldering fury. She didn’t know how to cope with Rendon’s betrayal. She had barely been coming to terms with the idea that someone might have targeted her family directly, but she didn’t know how to cope with the idea that it had been someone she knew, someone her father had trusted and cared about. 

All of the pain and anger and desire for revenge that had been driving her to act against injustice and senseless violence across the galaxy suddenly had a single focus. Instead of seething against a great, faceless mass of pirates and terrorists and mercenaries, she had a specific person, a name. Rendon Howe. Everything she had lost – everything that had been taken from her – all of the blame could be laid at his feet. She wanted him to pay. 

Alexia recoiled from the emotions running through her. This was almost worse than the initial surge of grief when she’d first lost them. That had been tempered with shock and numbness, disbelief. This was sharp and raw and burning with fury that had been seething, looking for an outlet. She had finally found one, and the intensity of her response frightened her. She didn’t know if she wanted to scream and rant, to swear vengeance, or to curl up on her bunk and sob. 

All she knew was that she didn’t want to deal with this alone. She wasn’t sure she was capable of handling it on her own. 

Scrambling back to her terminal, she pulled up the daily duty roster. Damn it! Alistair was currently scheduled on a shift. She checked the time and forced herself to take a deep breath. He would be free in an hour. She could hold it together for that long. 

Alexia settled herself back into the chair, calming as she formed a plan of action. She closed her eyes and focused on breathing and thinking. 

She could wait here for an hour until Alistair got off shift, then go looking for him. He’d probably be tired, but he would understand and be willing to listen. He always made time for her. She could explain all of it to him: Varel’s investigation, the salarian consultant’s conclusions, the pain and shock of Rendon’s betrayal, the maelstrom of emotions threatening to swallow her. 

He would help, like he had before. Alistair grounded her, stopped her from feeling alone in an indifferent, empty universe. He cared. He would be sympathetic, make inappropriately-timed jokes until she smiled, hold her hand. Maybe he would even let her cry on his shoulder, burying her face against his chest and letting go of all the pain. Just the thought of his arms around her, strong and warm and reassuring, was enough to make her feel safe and cherished. 

Alexia stopped herself, eyes flying wide open with sudden realization. Somewhere along the line, she had stopped thinking of him as Private First Class Theirin, and he had become simply Alistair. More importantly, she was no longer seeing him as a soldier under her command. Or even, if she was to be honest with herself, as simply a friend. She was letting herself get too close to him, and she wanted more. More than either of them could safely consider, given their relative positions. 

It was entirely inappropriate for her to even think of one of the marines in her unit in that context. She’d heard this was a common hazard for new officers, but she’d thought she would be smart enough to avoid it. Of course, she was emotionally vulnerable right now, which was clearly leading her to exercise extremely poor judgment. It was good that at least she’d realized what was happening before she’d acted on this latest crazy impulse. 

This had to stop now. It was entirely unprofessional of her to get attached to a subordinate in this manner, and she had to quit immediately. She couldn’t think of him – of any of her fellow soldiers – that way. Alexia had let herself start slipping into bad habits, but there was no reason she couldn’t break them. She was a strong, independent woman, and she could cope with her problems on her own, certainly without making rash decisions that would potentially compromise the entire rest of her career. 

From now on, all she needed to do was back off, keep her distance from Alistair – from Private First Class Theirin – until this inappropriate and unexpected intimacy dissipated.


	5. Chapter 5

After resolving to regain control of her emotions and maintain professional relationships, Alexia successfully managed to avoid Theirin for nearly a week. On the few occasions that they crossed paths, she was polite and casual, keeping an obvious distance. The confusion evident in his face wrenched at something in her chest, but she sternly told herself that what she was doing was best for both of them in the long run. There was no reason to feel guilty. 

Near the end of the week, however, her luck finally ran out. Theirin managed to corner her in a small lounge, the same room where she had ranted at him about the Ostagar mercenaries, as luck would have it. There wasn’t anyone else around for her to deflect the conversation to, and he was deliberately standing between her and the door. Alexia wasn’t going to be able to avoid him this time. 

She put on her best attempt at a casual, friendly but meaningless smile, familiar from years of attending her father’s parties full of random diplomats she didn’t know but wanted to make good impressions on for his sake. 

Theirin surprised her by being remarkably direct, none of his usual hesitation. “Did I do something wrong?” 

“No, of course not.” Alexia almost winced at the level of indifferent confusion she’d put into her voice, as if she truly had no idea why he might think there was anything unusual going on. 

“Oh…” He shrugged, mouth twisting in a mirthless smirk. “Are you sure? People are usually happy to tell me what I’ve done wrong. I don’t even have to ask, most of the time.” 

Alexia kept the polite smile fixed on her face and steeled herself to continue with this. The sooner they got past the awkwardness, the sooner things could become normal. “Why would you think you’ve done anything wrong?” 

“Aside from the fact that I usually have?” He looked her square in the eyes, and she tried not to react to the hurt and confusion she saw on his face. “You’ve been avoiding me. You’re not talking to me. Generally, when that happens, I’ve done something to cause it.” 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Alexia lied, forcing a tone of mild bemusement to cover her irrational guilt for doing what needed to be done. “I’m not avoiding you, and I’m talking to you right now.” 

“Yes, of course, you’re talking to me. But it’s not the same…” He trailed off and his shoulders sagged as he abandoned his efforts at conversation in the face of her persistent polite obliviousness. “Never mind. It’s not really important.” 

He turned and left the lounge, never having come in further than the doorway. Alexia collapsed onto the couch, head lolling back on the cushions. It had been so hard to watch him go, to see him so confused and rejected, knowing she was the one inflicting that on him. 

All she could hope was that she’d gotten through to him and they wouldn’t have to do this again. She kept reminding herself that it was better to hurt him now than to let things continue the way they had been and ruin both of their careers. As reassurances went, it felt somewhat hollow, but she clung to it anyway, knowing that she was being logical and doing what was right. Her emotions would just have to catch up later. 

 

The mood among the shore party was decidedly subdued. They were on the way back to the shuttle to return to the Nairobi after another failed raid, and it was becoming increasingly clear that this haphazard series of mercenary bases they’d been hitting had no connection to either Ostagar or each other. 

In one sense, the mission could be considered a success. The mercenaries were dead, and the marines had gotten in and out with very few casualties. Given the weapons caches, crates of red sand, and other evidence of illegal and immoral activity they’d found in the base, Alexia didn’t think any of them would be losing sleep over having taken this merc group out of commission. 

But she still couldn’t help but think the raid had been a waste of their time and resources. She didn’t need to wait for Justine or Athlar’s analysis to know that whatever information they’d recovered was useless. This base had all the signs of a small-time operation; there was no way they had any connection to something on the scale of Ostagar. It was another dead end, and the Nairobi’s crew was stuck chasing their tails. 

Alexia imagined that whoever was behind all of this was probably laughing their head off at the sight of the Alliance floundering around following one red herring after another. 

She climbed wearily onto the shuttle, trying to keep her frustration in check. It wouldn’t do any good for morale or unity to let the troops see the officers losing faith in the orders coming down from above. Any disagreements were best handled behind closed doors, in the relative privacy of officer briefings. Alexia was still warring with herself about whether she should speak up at the next meeting. As the ship’s most junior officer, it wasn’t her place to question the captain’s authority. On the other hand, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could stand watching them run headlong down blind alleys. 

Belatedly, Alexia realized that she had been heading for an empty seat next to Theirin. Quickly, she detoured to sit elsewhere, trying to mask her change in course so it wasn’t too blatantly obvious. 

Theirin had been watching her, a flicker of hope dying into hurt disappointment, like an ever-optimistic puppy getting kicked yet again. Commander Guerrin sent a curious look her way, complete with raised eyebrow. She stubbornly ignored both of them. 

There was nothing between her and Theirin because there couldn’t be. The sooner he came to accept that conclusion, the better off they would both be. She was doing this for his own good, and eventually he’d have to realize that. 

She avoided looking at him the entire ride back to the ship. 

 

“Permission to apologize, ma’am?” 

Alexia was caught off guard, looking up from her datapad to an earnest expression of concern. She hadn’t heard Theirin approach and was so startled by the almost-formal request that she responded without thinking, forgetting to keep her distance. “For what?” 

“I was kind of hoping you’d tell me.” His grin was tentative, fading quickly. “I don’t know what I did, but whatever it is, I’m sorry, and I want to fix it.” 

Alexia came to the definite realization that he wasn’t going to accept subtle social cues and let this go without an explanation. Apparently that stubborn determination wasn’t limited to the battlefield. If they were going to have this conversation, it wasn’t going to be here, out in the open. Tilting her head in an invitation to follow, Alexia led the way to one of the smaller lounges she frequented for its large viewport and its privacy, realizing when she got there that it was the same room where she’d told him about her family. 

Alexia stood in front of the window, staring out at the starscape as she gathered her thoughts. Theirin waited a few feet away, his attempts at appearing patient undermined by anxious fidgeting. 

“Since you’re not buying the denials,” Alexia began with a wry half-smile, “I’ll admit I’ve been avoiding you.” 

“Whatever I’m doing that’s a problem for you, I’ll stop.” 

She looked over at him, taking in his earnest expression. He looked so young at times like this, so sweet and sincere. She longed to reach a hand out to cup his face, smooth her thumb over his cheek until he relaxed and quit looking so upset. Instead, she clasped her hands behind her back, dropping into a parade rest stance. 

Shaking her head, she offered him a sad smile. “I don’t think you can.” 

“Tell me, and I’ll try. Unless you’re talking about breathing or eating. Those are kind of non-negotiable. But pretty much anything else. Give me a chance?” 

His lips had twitched up in a feeble attempt at a grin, and his warm eyes were full of pleading. Alexia wanted so badly to kiss him. Dragging her gaze away from that temptation, she stared back out the window, as she struggled to regain control and tried to line up the words to explain. 

Taking a deep breath, she started. “The Alliance has certain regulations about how officers are supposed to interact with soldiers under their command. As your superior officer, I feel that it’s my responsibility to make sure that we’re following those rules.” She paused, feeling her cheeks grow warm with a blush. “I’m pretty sure the only way I can do that is by keeping my distance from you.” 

Alexia tensed as she waited for a response. However obliquely, she had just admitted something that made her vulnerable, and she hated exposing herself to that kind of risk. 

Alistair had gone completely still, the nervous fidgeting finally stopped. She heard a change in his breathing, but he didn’t say anything. After a few moments of silence, Alexia looked over, needing some indication of his reaction. 

His expression completely floored her. He was staring at her with this look of shy, hopeful disbelief. She was pretty sure that no one had ever looked at her with true awe before. It was all she could do to resist the urge to touch him, to kiss him. Which only proved that she had been right. Being around him was far too dangerous. 

Eventually, after several minutes of awkward silence, he found his voice at last. “So, um, by ‘interactions’, you’re referring to…” 

“A romantic relationship, yes.” 

Alistair’s stunned look of disbelief started to get to her. What if she was reading this entirely wrong and he had no idea what to say because everything between them was completely in her head? Alexia turned to look back out the window, tilting her chin up as she felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment. “If the difficulty is one-sided, it will be much less of a problem for me to deal with.” 

“No!” Alistair moved jerkily, reaching a hand towards her before letting it drop back to his side. The sudden outburst drew her eyes back to him. “I mean, it’s not. Not just you. I…” He rubbed a hand over his face. “Sorry. I’m having trouble believing this. That you’re actually interested in me. As in dating.” 

Alexia deflated with relief, her shoulders dropping and a small, happy laugh escaping. “If I could, yes, I’d like that very much. As it is, though…” She took a deep breath, her smile fading. “You’re a marine under my command. Nothing can happen between us. So I’m avoiding you to try to… remove temptation.” 

“Temptation, am I? I like the sound of that.” His grin was somewhere between cocky and shy, and Alexia couldn’t help but smile back. 

Gradually, both of their smiles faded as the reality of the situation reasserted itself. 

“So, now what?” Alistair asked, shoulders moving in a slight shrug. 

“Now nothing. That’s the point.” Alexia tried to keep her voice firm, but she knew he could hear the disappointment she was struggling to hide. 

“Yeah, I guess it is.” Alistair sounded entirely dispirited. “I just never expected…” He paused, studying her face intently as if he was trying to lock the moment away in his memory. “Alexia, you’re an amazing woman. If things were different…” He reached a hand out toward her, an abortive, uncertain gesture. 

She nodded. “If things were different.” Taking his hand, she squeezed it briefly and then forced herself to let go, fingers brushing lingeringly over his. 

As she walked away, Alexia could feel the warmth remaining in her palm and fingers, her skin tingling everywhere it had come into contact with his. She longed to touch him again, however casually, just to feel that connection. 

Instead, she stiffened her spine and kept walking, knowing that the desire to go back only proved she was right to leave. 

 

Justine was conspicuously absent from the next officer briefing, and neither Captain Dryden nor Lieutenant Commander Athlar made any mention of the mercenaries from Ostagar. Alexia assumed that the captain – or her superiors – had finally admitted their investigation was a series of dead ends and decided to bury it until they developed a better strategy. 

Instead, the Nairobi had been tasked with joining the geth clean-up, wiping out the remaining synthetic footholds on this side of the Perseus Veil. The operation had been ongoing since the Battle of the Citadel, and significant progress was being made. A major outpost had been discovered in the Halam-Shiral system, relatively near to the Nairobi’s current location, so they had been assigned to deal with it. 

Captain Dryden announced that they would be hitting the base soon, and the rest of the meeting consisted of logistics for their approach and the subsequent ground attack, based on the limited information available about the layout and strength of the outpost, all of it extrapolated from strikes on similar facilities elsewhere. Alexia paid close attention, taking notes where relevant. If Commander Guerrin chose to assign her a squad again, she was determined to acquit herself well. Preparation was key to that success. 

 

After the meeting, Commander Guerrin surprised her by pulling her aside for a private conversation. 

“Is everything all right, Cousland?” He sounded genuinely concerned rather than accusatory or probing. 

Alexia kept her face calm and impassive as she inwardly panicked. What had she done to prompt this? Or more accurately, what had he found out about? The encrypted private messages seemed like the best candidates to have triggered some sort of alert and drawn attention. She suspected that her private investigation of Ostagar was impolitic at best and more likely a punishable offense. But if anyone had gotten enough detail from the messages to put the full picture together, she probably wouldn’t be finding out about it in an informal, friendly chat. 

Reassured, Alexia decided the best strategy was to acknowledge his concern but brush it aside as unnecessary. “I’m dealing with some family issues at the moment, sir. I appreciate your asking, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. I won’t let it affect my performance or impede carrying out my duties.” 

Guerrin nodded, frowning slightly, as if this wasn’t the answer he was expecting. “Are you having a problem with Alistair?”

Dammit, _that’s_ where this was going? Alexia smoothed her features into a completely professional mask and gave a neutral, appropriate response. “No, sir. Private Theirin is an excellent marine. I have no problems working with him at all, sir.” 

The commander’s expression remained skeptical, but he accepted her answer and let it drop. “Very well, lieutenant. Carry on.”

“Aye aye, sir.” Relieved, Alexia beat a hasty retreat before he decided to probe into any other potentially hazardous territory.


	6. Chapter 6

Storming the geth outpost was a surreal and uncomfortable experience. This was the largest geth force Cousland had faced, and suddenly all of the notations about their collective intelligence and hive-mind behavior she’d studied in the Academy made a lot more sense. Geth on this scale were smarter and better organized than the isolated pockets she’d encountered before. She still hadn’t adjusted her mindset to an enemy whose tactics were based on cold, relentless logic, and the increased processing power only intensified the problem. Cousland kept having to force herself to relax because the tension in her shoulders and arms was skewing her aim. 

Guerrin’s team was currently facing a heavy press of geth, including multiple armatures. The combined firepower coming at the group had forced the marines to grab cover hastily when the assault began. As a result, they were somewhat separated and had been pressed back significantly, giving up the ground gained in their previous assault. 

At the moment, Cousland was over a dozen yards away from anyone else in the shore party, having been forced to scramble to safety in a somewhat enclosed area when the armature’s pulse cannon had demolished her previous cover. She didn’t have the best sense of the fight, located on the periphery with her view constrained by her cover, but the crisp, efficient tone of the chatter coming across the comm and the decreased number of pulse cannon blasts echoing across the field suggested things were going well. Cousland’s new position wasn’t drawing much fire, so she took advantage of the break to pop out of cover long enough for some targeted shots at the two geth in range of her assault rifle. Both of them went down in relatively short order. While she was checking her heat sink and scanning for additional viable targets, Guerrin signaled across the comm that things were all clear for now. 

Relieved to have a lull, Cousland sagged back against the wall she’d been shielded by. She had no idea how long they’d been on planet. It had probably been less than an hour since the fighting had started, but it felt more like six. She was utterly exhausted and very much in need of a break. If they were going to have a few minutes to catch their breaths, she fully intended to take advantage of it. Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back and inhaled deeply, trying to relax her muscles and find a brief measure of calm. 

“Cousland, move!” She was jolted out of her reverie by Guerrin’s voice shouting in her ear. Snapping instantly alert, she scanned her surroundings, quickly finding the source of his alarm. There was a door sliding shut, cutting her off from the rest of the squad. Apparently she’d taken cover in some sort of entryway or access tunnel without realizing it. Damned geth architecture! 

Before her brain had finished processing the situation, her feet were moving, sprinting towards the vanishing exit. But she could tell she wasn’t going to make it in time. There was no way she could cover the remaining distance before the door sealed her in. 

Through the narrowing opening, she saw an armored figure charging at the door from the other side. She knew who it had to be long before she could see his face, eyes narrowed and stubborn jaw clenched with determination. She tried to shout at him to stop, not even bothering with the comm, but he kept coming, slipping through the door just before it closed. 

Furious and frustrated, she skidded to a halt. The door had sealed so completely that she couldn’t even see a seam, and there was nothing visible that even resembled an opening mechanism. Cousland slammed her fist against the door-turned-wall before whirling on her companion. “Dammit, Alistair, what were you thinking?” 

“That you wouldn’t make it alone, cut off like this.” He was panting between words, leaning against a wall and trying to catch his breath after a full-out sprint in combat armor. 

“So, what, you came to die with me?” Her outrage bubbled just under the surface, barely held in check. It was bad enough to have stumbled into a trap like this, but she sure as hell didn’t want to drag him down with her. 

He shrugged, calm in the face of her anger. “It sounded like a better idea than living knowing I’d let you go get killed without trying to help.” 

Looking at his expression, a mixture of sincerity and stubbornness, she couldn’t decide if she wanted to kiss him or deck him. She was spared having to decide by the arrival of a cluster of geth at the far end of the hallway, chittering in their mechanical language and leveling their weapons. 

Cousland and Theirin instinctively dropped behind adjacent outcroppings of the irregular walls, taking cover from the impending attack. Once the bullets started flying past, Cousland started timing the breaks to peek out from her cover, taking shots at the geth and assessing their situation. She tried to radio Commander Guerrin for a status report, but all she got was static. There must be something about the structure that was blocking their comm signals. This just kept getting better. 

Fortunately, the group of geth that had entered their hallway was relatively small and, as a result, not as sophisticated as the larger clusters they’d encountered earlier. It gave Cousland a little more confidence, as well as some breathing room as her shots – and Theirin’s – whittled their numbers down further. Maybe they did have a fighting chance of getting out of this, but only if they both believed it. 

“Don’t think we’re done discussing this.” She yelled over the noise of combat to Theirin. “The geth may have saved you for now, but it’s a temporary reprieve. We will get out of this, and when we do…” She left the threat hanging for him to imagine. 

“Whatever you think is appropriate, ma’am.” She could hear the smirk in his voice. 

“Oh, I’ll just deal with whatever Guerrin leaves me.” She grinned fiercely at his wince as he pictured the commander’s response to his rash actions. 

A wave of geth reinforcements came pouring around the corner at the far end of the hallway, and the levity vanished. Cousland needed to take this seriously and grab onto any tactical advantage they could find. If there was any chance of getting through this, she was determined to keep them sharp enough to do it. 

“We’re too isolated here. If an armature can fit in this hallway, we’re presenting a single target to something the size of a plasma cannon.” Cousland pointed to cover positions further up the hallway, separated enough to give them better angles of fire. “Let’s move.” 

 

Alexia sat wearily down on a crate, pulling off her helmet to let some air get to her sweat-soaked hair. Theirin dropped to the ground a few feet away, leaning back on a similar boxy shipping container. They’d managed to fight their way out of that dead end hallway and through several other geth checkpoints and assaults. This small room was a temporary refuge at best, but for the moment it was a safe place to rest and catch their breath. Alexia was glad to take it; she felt well beyond the point of turning down small mercies when offered. 

Theirin groaned wearily as he settled in, pulling off his helmet at stretching sore muscles. Glancing over, she caught sight of blood on his armor. Geth don’t bleed. 

Instantly, she was off the crate and at his side, trying to determine the source. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d been shot?” 

He looked at her in confusion for a moment before staring down at his side. “I didn’t know it had gotten through.” 

Biting her tongue to avoid snapping at him – irritation at his carelessness was far easier to deal with than panic about how badly he might be injured – she reached into the pouch where she kept her first aid supplies. Her hand drew out a single vial, mostly empty, and she swore. “God damn it! I forgot I used most of my medigel on Rhys after that first armature attack. Unless you’re carrying any, we’re going to have to be careful with what little’s left.” 

He shook his head, and the glazed look in his eyes sent a jolt of panic through her. How much blood had he lost already before she noticed? 

“I need a closer look, to apply this more directly. Get your armor off.” 

Alistair moved to comply, methodically undoing fastenings and removing things far too slowly for her peace of mind. He winced when he tried to move a certain way and pulled at the injury on his side. Unable to watch any longer, Alexia pulled off her gauntlets and started helping. 

Alistair gazed up at her kneeling over his slumped form, his grin a shadow of his usual smirk. “I have to say this isn’t how I pictured being undressed by a beautiful woman for the first time.” 

She smirked back, ignoring the catch in her chest at the compliment, but her amusement was quickly overridden by concern. His voice was slurring a little, and his eyes were getting unfocused. They didn’t have time for him to go into shock right now. Alexia tried to channel her worry into a mock glare. “Shut up and help me get this off.” 

“That’s more like it.” His self-deprecating chuckle was cut off by a hiss of pain as Alexia pulled the armor plate away from his side. 

She winced as she got a good look at the injury, trying to keep her face impassive to hide her reaction from him. But it was worse than she’d thought. The dark armor had disguised just how much blood there was, but now that she was seeing it against pale skin, it was clear that this was worse than the last time she’d patched him up. The remnants of her medigel wouldn’t be nearly enough. 

But it was better than doing nothing and watching him continue to bleed out. “This is probably going to sting,” she muttered, smearing the partial tube of gel across the entry wound. Alistair hissed at the contact, but he relaxed shortly thereafter as the numbing agents took effect. Alexia sighed with relief as the bleeding slowed and then oozed to a stop. 

Cleaning the blood away gently revealed that the wound was barely closed. She had no faith that it would hold once he was up and moving again, especially under combat conditions. “I guess we’ll be doing this the old fashioned way.” Leaning back on her heels, she dug back into the first aid pouch, pulling out a handful of super-absorbent sterile padding and thin bandaging. 

Alistair blinked in groggy surprise as he watched her get them ready. “You’re very prepared.” 

“My mom was a sergeant.” Alexia answered absently while folding the pads to the right size. “She would have flayed any marine who relied solely on technology. Now hold still.” 

Alexia carefully padded and bound the wound, trying to be gentle but thorough. She hadn’t had very much occasion to do this sort of field aid, given the ready availability of medigel in most hazardous situations. She just hoped she was remembering how to do it properly. 

She was so focused on her task that it took her a minute to register that Alistair had started speaking. “Hmm?” 

“Said this is kind of déjà vu. From Ostagar, how we met.” There was something strained in his voice, and Alexia winced, hoping she wasn’t hurting him too much while trying to help. 

“Yes, well, if it’s all the same, I’d rather we not keep doing this.” Finally satisfied that the bandage was wrapped to the best of her ability, she fastened the end of it off, adding a quick prayer that it would hold. 

Her eyes landed on an angry scar just above the bandage, and her fingers moved to touch it lightly. “Is this where…?” 

“Yeah, that’s my memento from the last time you saved my life.” 

Fascinated, Alexia ran her fingers over it, feeling the slightly raised scar tissue. She hadn’t seen it before; that time the medigel supply had been sufficient not to require direct contact. There was the strange feeling that the scar represented some sort of bond between them, but Alexia couldn’t quite articulate how or why. As she contemplated it, her eyes and fingertips traced a series of smaller scars and marks up his chest, brushing lightly over his skin. She didn’t consciously register the intimacy of what she was doing until her hand got to his collarbone and then rested on the side of his neck, drawing her attention to his face. 

Alistair’s eyes were dark, his lips slightly parted. She couldn’t recall anyone ever looking at her like that, with such open, honest worship and need. Her mouth went dry. She flicked her tongue out to moisten her lips enough to part them. “I probably shouldn’t have done that.” 

His reply was soft, a husky whisper. “I definitely shouldn’t do this.” 

And then his hand was on the back of her neck. Alexia offered no resistance as he gently drew her in. Their lips met, a simple touch, soft and sweet. The kiss was hesitant, but there were hints of passion buried underneath. Alexia felt a tingling warmth spread out through her body from every point of contact. She wanted more. 

Firmly, she pulled back. “No, you shouldn’t.” He could blame this lapse in judgment on blood loss. What was her excuse? She pushed away, and his hand slipped off her neck, letting her go. 

Needing distance to regain control, Alexia rose smoothly to her feet, turning her back and taking a deep breath as she pulled her gauntlets back on. She bent to pick up her helmet from the crate she had been sitting on, settling it back into place. 

“Get your armor back on, marine. There are still a lot of geth between us and a way out of here, and I’ll be damned if I’m not going to get you back to the ship in one piece.” 

 

Cousland had been right about the number of geth still ahead, but at least they hadn’t run into any more armatures. Neither of them had taken any more serious damage, either, but she wasn’t sure how long that luck could hold. 

She had no solid sense of time – whatever was interfering with their comm channels inside this building had screwed up her timepiece, too – but judging by her level of fatigue, it had to have been hours since they landed on this planet. She was reaching the limits of her endurance, and she couldn’t imagine how Theirin hadn’t already hit his, given the blood loss he’d sustained. They were both exhausted, and that was going to cause them to start making mistakes they couldn’t afford. But there wasn’t much in the way of an alternative. All she could do was keep pressing on and hope that they got to the end of this gauntlet soon. 

Every time Cousland decided that she couldn’t keep going, they managed to clear the current wave of geth and earn a brief reprieve, long enough to catch her breath and talk herself into pushing a little bit further. But each wave took a little longer and came a little closer to wearing them down. She wondered if the geth knew it and were taking advantage of their exhaustion. Maybe the synthetics had no concept of fatigue, and they would simply continue on with their logical attack strategies unabated until their foes were defeated. She doubted it would make much difference to her either way. 

During one break between waves, Cousland leaned heavily against a wall, resting and tapping what little energy reserves she had left. Her head sagged forwards, helmet visor resting against the grey metal structure, and she waited for the ringing in her ears to clear. She had been listening to small arms fire for so long that she was still hearing it, even though there was nothing left for them to shoot at the moment. 

“Does that sound like gunfire?” Theirin’s voice was vague, slightly disconnected. He sounded as drained as she felt. 

She shook her head, helmet knocking softly against the wall as she failed to lift it up first. “Just echoes stuck in our ears, it’ll pass. Give it a few minutes. Assuming nothing else tries to kill us in the meantime.” 

“That’s what I like about you: your unfailing optimism.” 

Cousland decided she couldn’t be bothered to spare the energy for a response to that, and they fell silent, the only sound in the hallway their labored breathing slowing as the latest adrenaline surge faded. 

A few minutes later, he spoke again. “That really sounds like gunfire.” 

Startled, Cousland quit deliberately tuning it out and consciously listened. Gradually the echoing noise resolved into the sounds of a heavy firefight, distorted by distance. “You’re right. It does.” With a rush, her fogged brain kicked into gear. “We’ve found the rest of the squad!” 

Re-energized by this sudden realization, she pushed off from the wall and resettled her armor on her shoulders. “It sounds like they could use some help. Let’s go see what we can do.” 

She pressed on down the hallway, Theirin falling into step beside her. His posture was straighter and less defeated now that there was a concrete likelihood of making it out of this place. 

As the sounds of the fight got louder and more distinct, she signaled for them to move quietly, hoping they might take advantage of a few seconds of surprise to hit the geth flank and make a serious dent in it. They continued advancing at a quiet creep, and she suspected that rounding the next corner would put them within range of the combat. 

All of Cousland’s attempts at stealth were nearly blown when the comm link crackled to life, Commander Guerrin’s orders suddenly appearing in her ear as loudly as if he were shouting from a few feet away. She started, nearly losing her balance and knocking into a wall. Theirin reached out a hand to help steady her, and she grinned sheepish thanks. Apparently they’d gotten in close enough range to overcome whatever had been blocking the radio signals. 

If she could receive comm chatter, maybe it would be possible to let the commander know they were here, to coordinate their surprise attack so the rest of the squad could capitalized on it. Not wanting to speak and risk drawing attention from the geth, she sent a pattern of clicks across the comm channel, hoping that Guerrin would hear them over the chaos and recognize the sound as communication. She waited anxiously for a response, calling Theirin to a halt at the final corner before they got into line of sight. 

Guerrin called for comm silence. There was an urgent, slightly confused tone in his voice. “Repeat that?” 

Cousland grinned with relief at having gotten through. She sent across another set of clicks, trying to identify herself as an ally ready to strike the enemy’s flank. 

“Cousland?” Guerrin sounded like he couldn’t believe what he was saying. 

She sent back a single click: affirmative. 

There was a pause. “Is Alistair with you?” 

Another single click. 

Guerrin’s whispered “Thank God” was barely audible over the comm channel, competing with the ambient noise of gunfire and geth chatter. His voice took on a ring of authority after that. “All right, troops. It sounds like we’re about to get some reinforcements and hopefully a diversion. Be ready to take advantage of any opportunity they give us.” 

Cousland hefted her assault rifle, tilting her head at Theirin to see if he was ready. His wide grin of anticipation confirmed that he was every bit as eager to get this over with as she was. She held up a count of three to synchronize their movement, and then they burst around the corner, peppering the geth flank with bullets as they moved into good cover positions. Cousland took in the general layout of the fight as it came into view. They were on a railing overlooking a larger room that appeared to be where the bulk of the fighting was taking place. 

Three of the smaller geth on the elevated platform were down – shredded by a hail of assault rifle fire – before the rest even realized there was a new threat, and another two got taken out before the source was identified. Cousland and Theirin had been advancing from cover to cover as they cleared out these stragglers, claiming ground on the catwalk platform. In turning the face the new combatants, the remaining handful of geth opened themselves up to fire from the marines on the ground. They collapsed into twisted heaps of metal and circuitry, leaving Theirin and Cousland in sole control of the elevated position. 

“That would be really handy if either of us was a sniper,” she muttered. Still, higher ground wasn’t an advantage to be taken lightly, and she focused on taking shots at targets that came within range, prioritizing those that seemed to be posing the most threat to the main body of the unit. 

Not surprisingly, the geth adjusted their tactics rapidly the account for the new variable, but their momentary disorientation had allowed the Alliance forces to weaken them sufficiently that the tide of battle was turning. 

Just before Cousland’s last heat sink overloaded, she saw the final two geth stagger and collapse, their systems shutting down under the heavy damage that had been done to their circuitry. A ragged cheer went up from the marines, spreading around the room. Cousland felt like she should have joined in, but she barely had the energy to stay on her feet. Shouting was out of the question. 

As the marines on the ground began scouring the field of battle and salvaging any technology they deemed useful, Cousland and Theirin located a route down to the main floor and rejoined the unit. 

Commander Guerrin was there to meet them, relief evident on his face. He greeted Cousland with a firm handclasp and a nod of respect. “Thank you for the assistance, lieutenant. That was a very timely entrance.” 

“Glad we were able to help, sir.” 

Theirin was gathered into a manly, one-armed hug. “You continue to have the luck of fools, boy. Don’t ever do that again.” 

“Sorry, sir.” Cousland couldn’t help but notice that wasn’t actually a promise. 

When Guerrin pulled back, blood had transferred onto his armor, the dark red standing out against the lighter tones of his plating. The instant he noticed, his eyes widened with concern. “You’re injured.” 

“I’m fine, sir.” Theirin brushed his concern aside. 

The commander looked skeptical and appeared to be on the verge of berating him for continued idiocy. Cousland decided it would be best for her to step in. 

“I patched him up a while back. The bleeding should be under control at this point. But it wasn’t a professional job by any stretch of the imagination. He needs a medbay.” 

Guerrin nodded acknowledgment, his concern fading to a minor, background level. “We’re pretty well done here, so we’ll get him there as soon as we can.” 

Theirin’s wry expression was something of a mystery. She couldn’t tell if he was grateful that she had diverted the commander, irritated about her speaking for him, or annoyed at the prospect of being sent immediately to the medbay upon docking, yet again. If he’d learn to quit getting shot, that last one at least wouldn’t have to happen so often. 

 

The commander kept his word; Alistair was sent off to the medbay as soon as the shuttle docked back on the Nairobi. Alexia noticed that he didn’t protest that order coming from Guerrin nearly as much as she suspected he would have from her. 

Regardless, Alexia was glad not to have to worry about arranging to get him taken care of, and she was more than happy to leave the commander the responsibility of debriefing Captain Dryden about the mission. Temporarily freed of immediate obligation, her first order of business was heading to her quarters to get out of armor and take a hot shower. 

She didn’t linger in the shower. It was never really an option on board a ship, and today she didn’t even regret that. It was enough to let the water sluice away the sweat and grime while the heat soothed sore and exhausted muscles. 

As soon as she had toweled dry, pulled on a shipboard casual uniform, and gathered her damp hair back into its usual tight knot, Alexia headed for the medbay to check on Alistair. While he wasn’t there on her orders, just her recommendation, she could still justify wanting to see how her field patching had held up. Any advice the doctor could offer on how she might improve her bandaging techniques would be of great use if she ever needed to rely on them in the future. This didn’t have to be specifically about her being worried about Alistair and wanting to make sure he was all right. 

Of course, it _was_ about that, but she had enough other plausible reasons to check in on him that she wouldn’t have to admit it.


	7. Chapter 7

The doctor greeted Alexia with a grunt that conveyed grudging respect. “Not many Academy graduates know how to do good field patching.” 

“My mother was a sergeant with the Navy. She trained me.” It hurt to think about her mother, but Alexia had never spoken of her with anything but pride, and that mostly overrode the pain. 

Her response earned a respectful nod. “Good for her. Your mother saved a man’s life today.” The man shook his head with a sigh. “Most modern soldiers are helpless without medigel. It’s nice to see there are at least a few around who can keep their heads.” 

“Thank you, sir.” Alexia paused, uncertain how to steer the conversation. The doctor was looking at her impatiently, so she decided to just ask directly. “How is he?” 

“Fine.” He turned back to the file analysis Alexia had interrupted when she arrived. “Go in. He’s been asking for you.” The doctor glanced up from his terminal. “He’s still a little groggy from blood loss, so don’t be surprised if he makes less sense than usual. Fair warning.” He rolled his eyes and waved her towards the door before returning to his work. 

Alexia walked quietly into the patient area, not wanting to disturb Alistair if he was resting. She saw him immediately, sitting upright on one of the patient beds, propped against a pile of pillows. Alexia stopped a couple of cots away, keeping her distance, staying professional and out of arm’s reach to avoid the temptation to touch him. “Looks like you’re not getting out of here any time soon, huh?” 

“How’d you guess?” Alistair’s face had lit up when he saw her come in, and she tried to ignore the twitch in her chest at the sight of his smile. He sounded less frustrated than she would have expected. He must really be drained not to be trying to tear the bulkheads down to get out of this place and back on duty. 

She shrugged, trying to keep the conversation light. “You don’t really seem dressed for an excursion.” He was wearing loose clothing, something resembling a hospital gown or scrubs. It was disconcerting to see him out of uniform. There was a bulkiness around his waist that she assumed came from bandages or, more likely, some sort of applied long-term treatment to speed healing of the partially-mended tissues. 

“The doctor seemed to think that this would keep me put.” Alistair gave her a grin that suggested a shared secret. “But he has no idea how bad my fashion sense normally is. It would take more than this to be worse than what I’d pick on my own.” A lopsided grin made Alexia’s breath catch for a second. Now that she knew how those lips felt, it was even harder to resist the urge to kiss them. She very deliberately stayed where she was, keeping an empty cot between them. “There’s a reason I picked a career where someone else is responsible for choosing what I wear. Uniforms make getting dressed in the morning much easier.” 

She let him trail off while she regained control of her thoughts, noting that his rambling tendencies were currently exaggerated by fatigue, likely coupled with some sort of pain medication. After a moment of somewhat comfortable silence, Alistair’s happy, playful expression faded, replaced by the sort of guilty look that made Alexia think of children and puppies trying to get out of trouble. “I know what I should apologize for this time.” 

“No need.” Alexia shrugged, deliberately misunderstanding. She didn’t want to have this conversation, not right now. “Don’t make a habit of disobeying orders, and I won’t bring it up again. I doubt the commander will be as forgiving about it if you pull that on him, but I’d feel like a hypocrite and an ingrate if I reprimanded you for saving my life.” 

“Good. Yes. I’m glad you’re not mad about that.” He glanced down, fidgeting uncomfortably with the sheets for a minute before making eye contact again. “But that wasn’t what I meant.” 

“No, don’t.” Alexia cut him off before he could mention having kissed her. She wasn’t sure if she was more concerned that someone might overhear or that talking about it would remove her ability to pretend it hadn’t happen – and that she wasn’t aching for it to happen again. “Don’t apologize for something neither of us regrets.” 

She saw the hope flare in his eyes and felt utterly heartless as she prepared to stamp it out. 

Keeping her face stern, she looked him right in the eyes as she killed his nascent hopes. “It can’t happen again. Ever.” No matter how much she wanted it to. 

 

There hadn’t been much left to say after that, so Alexia left the medbay with a few awkward wishes for speedy recovery and went in search of Commander Guerrin. She located him fairly quickly, sitting alone at a table in one of the common areas, intently focused on a datapad. Apparently the captain’s debriefing from this mission had been a lot shorter than the one after Ostagar. He was likely working on his official report while it was still fresh. Alexia couldn’t help wondering if the crease in his forehead was a result of trying to find a way to describe Alistair’s recklessness and insubordination in more flattering terms. She didn’t envy him the task. 

Not wanting to interrupt, she stopped a few feet away, waiting in a stance approximating parade rest. 

After a few moments, the commander set his datapad down and looked up at her. “Ah, Lieutenant. Back from medbay, I assume. How is he?” 

“Theirin’s recovering well, sir. Some concerns about blood loss, but nothing that some enforced bed rest won’t make up for.” 

He nodded, a look of relief flitting across his face briefly. “Thank you, again, for getting him back in one piece.” 

“I’m always glad to help, sir. But this time I think I owe him. He wouldn’t have been injured if he hadn’t come to my aid.” 

Guerrin nodded, his expression carefully neutral. 

Alexia had no idea what he was thinking and if she was making the situation better or worse, so she resolved to stop bringing the details to his attention. She simply stood there for a moment, waiting for him to speak again. 

“Was there something you needed, Cousland?” Guerrin prompted. 

“If I may, sir, I wanted to make a suggestion.” 

He nodded, gesturing for her to continue. 

“I observed that Theirin’s been shot twice in approximately the same area within a short time window. Repeated injury to the same location suggests a problem, a flaw in armor, shields, or stance.” She paused, moving from observation to recommendation. “I believe in this case that it’s his stance. I would suggest that he needs someone to help him drill out that vulnerability before his opponents exploit it again. He might not be so lucky a third time.” 

“That’s a good observation, one I should have made. Thank you for bringing it to my attention.” The commander stroked his short beard thoughtfully, hand covering his mouth and concealing any expression that might have given Alexia insight into his reaction. “I assume that you’re volunteering to work with him. So long as you restrict your extra training to off-duty hours, I approve the request. You may begin as soon as the doctor clears him for activity.” 

Guerrin returned his attention to the report on his datapad, clearly considering the matter settled, but Alexia hesitated. She actually hadn’t been considering training Alistair herself. But now that Guerrin suggested the idea, she couldn’t help picturing it. Having official sanction to spend her off-duty time with Alistair, working in close physical proximity, studying his body and how he moved, touching him to guide subtle changes of position. 

She had to swallow twice to find her voice. “Respectfully, sir, I request that you assign someone else.” 

Guerrin glanced up from the datapad, his face showing surprise rapidly replaced by concern. “Why? Do you have a problem working with him?” 

“No, not at all,” she answered, probably too quickly. She took a moment to compose herself. “I just think that I’m not the best person to efficiently work on this with him.” 

The commander raised an eyebrow curiously, but he nodded without asking any further questions, for which she was grateful. “Very well. I’ll assign someone to begin helping Theirin analyze his stance once he’s cleared medically. I appreciate you bringing the suggestion to me. That sort of insight is the mark of a good officer.” 

Alexia straightened her spine, squaring her shoulders in response to the compliment. “Thank you, sir.” 

He smiled faintly at her enthusiasm. “If there’s nothing else?” Guerrin gestured with his datapad. 

“Of course, sir. Thank you, sir.” Alexia walked away, leaving him to his work. 

As soon as she left, she felt a swell of regret for having passed up the opportunity to spend so many guilt-free hours with Alistair. Which was how she knew she’d made the right decision. 

 

Alexia returned to her quarters, going back over Varel’s reports to give herself something concrete and productive to focus on. She started with the files from the salarian consultant, scouring them in more detail. The data analysis was dense and complicated, and she hadn’t taken the time to fully tease apart the nuances and implications before, distracted as she was by Rendon’s guilt and the associated personal tragedy. Now, looking at it with a clearer head, she saw another pattern beginning to emerge. 

Vardo had found evidence implicating a second company – Regent Armaments – in the irregular financial dealings. His notes suggested that they were routing funds through Rendon, most of which ended up being transferred out of Conobar Transport to accounts that had little relationship to legal business dealings. Vardo had included a marginal note that Regent Armaments was a frequent supplier to a group called Cerberus on a recent project, and he’d included a number for cross-referencing. That didn’t mean anything to Alexia, and the reference number didn’t match anything Varel had sent her, so she assumed that it was related to some other investigation the salarian had been conducting for another client. 

Alexia was intrigued by the inclusion of Regent, a defense contractor of some sort. Varel had, understandably, been focused primarily on the evidence of major fraud and corruption within the highest levels of his employer’s firm. And while Alexia had been devastated by the information about Rendon, it hadn’t addressed her original query about Ostagar; there was nothing directly linking Howe to that mercenary activity. These other money transfers, however, looked like they might have a connection. She needed more detailed information. 

Varel had sent her contact information for Vardo Amell, so she decided it would be simpler to ask him directly rather than continuing to filter communication through Varel. The VP likely had his hands full dealing with Rendon and figuring out how to minimize the damage to Conobar. He had already done more than Alexia had asked of him, far more than she had expected, so she felt no need to impose on him further. 

She composed a brief message to the salarian, introducing herself and asking if he could confirm her suspicions about Regent Armaments, as well as sending her any additional information he had about the corporation that might be pertinent to her investigation. She also included a query about one of the files he had sent which, rather than containing any sort of financial data, had simply been a picture of a giraffe wearing a top hat, monocle, and waistcoat. If there had been any significance to that image, it had totally escaped her. 

 

Two days later, Alexia received a response from Vardo Amell. It was heavily encrypted and arrived around the same time as another batch of files from Varel, all of which had been forwarded on from the salarian. Vardo’s message read, in its entirety:

**My client vouches for your discretion and involvement in this matter, and your address appears genuine and secure, which should be expected given your employer. Therefore, I am prepared to provisionally accept your identity and entrust you with the following information.**

**The sentient ungulate with vintage sartorial taste is a product of improper decryption protocols. I suggest you try again.**

Sure enough, when she ran the original version of the giraffe file through a different suite of decryption software, it yielded something much more comprehensible: a record of financial transactions between Conobar Transport and Regent Armaments, all of which appeared to have been signed off by Rendon. That, combined with the additional information the salarian had sent via Varel, confirmed Alexia’s suspicions that she was finally on the right trail to get answers about Ostagar. 

Determined to learn more about Regent Armaments, since it was her first solid lead, she started with a few searches to learn about its corporate officers and board of directors, individuals who might have enough clout to handle finances on the scale necessary to fund mercenary operations. 

The only person who really jumped out at her was the company’s founder and CEO, an earthborn man by the name of Loghain Mac Tir. Further digging into his background revealed surprisingly little for someone of his status and influence. Apparently he’d put that influence to use concealing most of the details of his personal life. All Alexia was able to piece together was that he had been a hero in the First Contact War, fighting alongside General Maric Theirin. Following the end of hostilities, his career had undergone a similar meteoric rise, but then – unlike Maric – it had abruptly stalled out within a few years. Less than five years later, he had left the Alliance – an honorable discharge with no details given – and founded Regent as a defense company. Every mention of him she could find in public databases since then was connected with his corporation. The man’s private life and motivations were a complete blank slate. 

Her intuition and Vardo’s analysis pointed at this Loghain Mac Tir as the driving force behind the attack at Ostagar, but Alexia wasn’t comfortable reaching that conclusion without knowing something more about the man she was accusing. It was time to branch out to other sources of information. 

 

“Commander Guerrin, could I ask you for a favor? Totally off the books.” 

The commander looked intrigued by her request, but his response was noncommittal. As usual, he was reserving judgment, avoiding committing himself on the basis of incomplete information. That was a trait Alexia admired in him, as difficult as it might prove for her at the moment. “What precisely did you have in mind?” 

“It’s about your brother.” She paused, trying to gauge his reaction, but other than a slight lift of his eyebrows – the tiniest hint of surprise – there wasn’t one. “I know that he’s a very influential man, well connected in both Alliance and Citadel circles. He has some particular pull around the Embassies and trade circles, as I understand it.” 

Guerrin nodded, acknowledging her statements without precisely confirming them. He was still waiting for relevance. 

“I need information – potentially sensitive information – and I’m hoping he would be willing to acquire it for me, if you relay my request.” 

“I think I would need to know a little more than that before I asked Eamon for a favor on behalf of one of my subordinates he’s never met.” Guerrin’s frown was skeptical, but the fact that he hadn’t shut her down completely encouraged her to continue. 

“I’m carrying out something of an informal investigation. Into Ostagar.” 

Whatever the commander had been expecting, that wasn’t it. He blinked twice in rapid succession as he processed her words. “Does Captain Dryden know about this?” 

“No. That’s kind of what I meant by ‘informal investigation’. As in not sanctioned by my superiors or done with their knowledge.” She bit her lip. “With one exception now, sir.” 

“You are taking a bit of a risk by bringing this to me, aren’t you?” He stroked at his chin. “Why me? What can you get specifically from Eamon that’s worth taking the chance I’ll refuse and turn the whole affair over to the captain, when you’ve been trying to keep it from her?” 

“Obviously I’d prefer you didn’t do that, sir.” Alexia looked him firmly in the eyes to demonstrate her sincerity. “I don’t believe I’m doing anything wrong, but these are sensitive issues, and I don’t want to send anything up the chain until I have something more solid than speculation. That’s what I’m hoping you can help me with.”

Guerrin nodded gravely. “You didn’t answer my question: Why Eamon?” 

“His connections,” Alexia said simply, spreading her hands to emphasize the point. “He can ask questions of the right people and have them come across as idle curiosity, an afterthought tacked on to some other, more important conversation. If I specifically approach my father’s contacts with this, I’ll draw too much attention. They’ll want to know why I’m asking, and it will raise suspicions. If I’m wrong, that would be problematic. If I’m right, it could be even worse.” 

“Why not have your father ask them? Surely he’s nearly as well connected as my brother, even if he’s been out of the diplomatic circles for a few years.” 

A flood of bitter guilt washed over Alexia, and she struggled to keep her emotions under control. Fighting back the tears prickling in her eyes, she raised her chin and looked at him levelly. “That isn’t an option. Will you help me or not?” 

“What do you need to know?” She noticed that he still hadn’t committed himself one way or the other. 

“As I said, I’m looking into Ostagar.” Alexia weighed how much to tell him, what was safe to say at this point. Ultimately, she decided it was time to take a gamble. Honesty was the only thing likely to convince him, and she needed his help. “I think the turians were framed. Someone else hired those mercenaries and took the data to keep it out of our hands. There’s something else going on here, and I don’t like being used as an expendable pawn.” Alexia took a deep breath, steadying herself and pushing back the anger that came whenever she thought too much about the lives lost at Ostagar. 

There was a matching fury in the commander’s eyes that bolstered her resolve to trust him. 

“I’m following the credit trail from the mercs, and it’s led to me a man named Loghain Mac Tir.”

Judging by the way his brows lowered, Guerrin recognized that name. His verbal response was careful. “I can see why that would require delicate handling. What do you need, exactly?” 

“All I can find is the briefest of biographical sketches. I need to know about more than just his career. I need to know the man and his motives. Is he capable of doing something like this, and if so, what would drive him to it? Does the piece fit the puzzle, or is he another red herring?” 

Guerrin nodded thoughtfully. 

“Can you help me?” Alexia pressed. 

“I can’t speak for my brother. Lord knows I’ve never been able to do that reliably.” His mouth twisted in a wry smile. “But I’ll ask him.” 

“Thank you, sir. I appreciate the help.” 

“I’m not doing it just for you, Cousland.” The commander’s face grew dark, his eyes shadowed. “I knew a lot of the men who were lost at Ostagar. I’ll gladly help with this investigation if it might bring us a step closer to getting them justice.”


	8. Chapter 8

The next geth remnant the Nairobi was sent to clear out was a small pocket of the synthetics who had taken over an abandoned base on a moon orbiting the planet Simmard. Captain Dryden opted to send a smaller squad to deal with them in the interest of efficiency. She instructed Commander Guerrin to select only the members of his team who he felt were best prepared to deal with geth. After her performance in their last two encounters with the machines, Alexia wasn’t surprised to find herself on the shuttle when the shore party departed from the Nairobi. 

In truth, she welcomed the distraction. Since convincing Guerrin to help with her informal, illicit investigation, she’d had nothing productive to do on her off-duty shifts beyond waiting for a report from his brother. In lieu of anything else, she’d returned to combing through Vardo’s data analysis. Nothing new had emerged from further read-throughs; she was fairly certain they’d gotten all of the meaningful patterns there were to find at this point. All she had accomplished was focusing her mind on Rendon’s betrayal, her family’s deaths, and the feeling of complete isolation at losing everything she had cared about. Alexia had spent a lot of time the past few days staring out windows at empty starscapes, wishing she could feel as peaceful and detached as the stars looked. 

She’d also been regretting her refusal to work with Alistair on correcting his defensive stance. It would have been something concrete and productive to do, something to take her mind off her helplessness and loss. But then she remembered the feel of his skin under her fingers, the soft press of his lips to hers, the way her breath caught when he smiled, the intensity in his eyes when he said he’d rather die than let her go into danger alone. 

All of the reasons that it was a bad idea for her to be around him for long. 

She snapped out of her brooding at the sound of Alistair’s laugh echoing through the small shuttle cabin. Concerned, she looked up, attention drawn to where he was seated on the other end of the craft – as far away as possible because she’d deliberately chosen to put distance between them. She found him immediately, as if a part of her awareness was always keeping track of his location, no matter how much she tried to ignore him. 

A glance at his face confirmed her impression. That laugh had been hollow, insincere, and that little smile was completely self-mocking. Alexia’s frown deepened. It took an extreme effort of will to stay in her seat when she wanted so strongly to go to him, to remind him that he was so much stronger and more capable than he ever gave himself credit for, to replace that half smirk with a genuine, open smile that made her heart melt. 

Furious with herself, Alexia ripped her gaze away from him and back to the decking at her feet. She clenched her hands so hard the armored gauntlets creaked. This was exactly why she had resolved to stay away from Theirin. This was a distraction, and until she could get her emotions under control, being around him could only lead to a mistake that might cost them both their careers. She wasn’t willing to give up everything she’d trained for at the Academy, and she would be damned if she had any part in him losing the one thing that made him feel good about himself, like he belonged and was part of something worthwhile. Alexia would never forgive herself if she did anything to damage that. 

Continuing to stay away from him until she came to her senses was the only reasonable option. 

That was much easier when she had something else to focus on, so it was almost a relief when the shuttle touched down on the moon’s surface. Standing, Cousland rolled her shoulders and snapped on her full helmet complete with breather mask, a necessity in the thin atmosphere of Simmard’s moon they would encounter when the shuttle door hissed open. 

Once everyone was fully suited up, Commander Guerrin did a quick comm check and reinforced the mission parameters. They were brutally simple: primarily, exterminate the geth outpost on this moon and secondarily, obtain any data that might give indications of geth presence elsewhere in this system or cluster. The squad for this mission had been hand-picked for their competence fighting geth, and the commander didn’t appear to feel the need to provide any further directions or advice on tactics. It was possible that would change once he saw how the synthetics were arrayed and knew precisely what they were up against. Cousland resolved to keep an open mind and stay flexible. 

 

For once, everything went according to plan. Mopping up the geth from this moon base proved to be every bit as simple and straight-forward as it had looked in the briefing room. There weren’t enough of the synthetics present to network into a truly sophisticated collective intelligence, and all of the marines Commander Guerrin had brought along were sufficiently skilled in anti-geth combat to effectively counter the tactics used by the synthetics in this situation. The lack of armatures was an added bonus that made things go that much more smoothly. 

In short order, the marines had cut down the geth numbers substantially and pinned the remaining ones into a dead-end portion of the facility where they could be efficiently removed. Despite their dwindling numbers, the synthetics were putting up a not-insignificant resistance, having entrenched themselves into well-fortified defensive positions. Cousland could tell that the rest of this would not go as quickly as the initial stages of their assault. 

Guerrin came across the comm, his voice steady and calm. “Cover positions, everyone. Let’s focus on whittling them down as cleanly as possible. We’re not on a clock here, and they’re not going anywhere. I’d rather take longer and walk away clean than rush and get sloppy.” 

The squad complied, falling into a staggered set of positions that gave them both defensive cover and broad coverage of the field of combat. And then the next phase of the combat began in earnest. 

The next several minutes were spent trading shots, with geth and marine alike popping out of cover to fire a few quick rounds before ducking back to avoid drawing fire. It was less dramatic and exciting than some styles of combat, but they were far more likely to go back to the Nairobi with minimal casualties this way. Cousland thought it spoke well to the commander’s patience and sound judgment that he was willing to wait it out, letting superior training and position do their work through attrition. 

The wisdom of Guerrin’s team selection also became apparent as the fight wore on. Cousland, Theirin, and several of the other marines who were most skilled with shotguns and assault rifles – aggressive, close combat weapons – had been instrumental in making the initial push into the base and establishing them in this strong position. 

Now, though, they weren’t doing much beyond providing a distraction to keep the geth pinned down. The bulk of the work was being done by soldiers like Corporal Forester. The corporal’s sniper training made him especially adept at spotting holes in cover – or sometimes simply cover that was flimsy enough he could plow a round or two through it – and taking out opponents who hadn’t realized they were at risk. Lieutenant Rhys was also an incredible asset in this situation. The ability to use biotics to relocate some of the objects that geth were taking cover behind certainly sped up the process of finishing them off. 

The stutter of small arms fire and the chittering communication of the geth were interspersed periodically by comm chatter. Some of the squad liked to keep a tally of their kills or had a tendency to whoop over particularly good shots. Cousland had always preferred to let her work speak for itself, so she rarely got involved in the battle babble, as she thought of it. But she always kept an ear out for anything significant that came across the channels. 

“Theirin, watch that knee!” Rhys’s sharp snap cut cleanly through the general background chatter. “We’ve talked about tucking back in after a shot like that.” 

“Sorry, sir.” Theirin’s reply was immediate and chagrined. 

“Better.” The lieutenant sounded approving, so Theirin must have adjusted his stance appropriately. “I’m under instructions to bring you back without any holes in your side today. Apparently the doctor wants some variety in his work.” 

The resulting chuckles were good-natured, including the one from Theirin himself as he acknowledged the instructions. Cousland felt a flash of jealousy at the easy camaraderie. That should have been her working with Theirin and helping him to come home safe. She was the one who had patched him up after the injuries that Rhys was so blithely joking about. 

She firmly pushed the thought aside; the rational part of her mind knew she was being stupid. She’d refused the assignment – told Guerrin to give it to someone else. And she’d done it for good reasons. Instead of being jealous, she should just be grateful that Guerrin had listened and made sure Theirin got help. With any luck, she wouldn’t have to drag him back from another mission covered in blood and groggy from shock and exsanguination. He would be safer now, and that was what mattered. 

It took another twenty minutes of careful aiming, well-timed and covered approaches, and creative application of a few specialized skills, but the remaining geth were eventually dropped. Once they had verified that the targets were all down, Guerrin called for status reports from the team, confirming that no further casualties had been accumulated beyond the minor injuries sustained in the initial assault on the base. He congratulated them on their excellent work and set the team’s best technical experts to scouring the base for any data terminals that might be relevant to their secondary objective. 

Cousland joined a few of the other marines in examining the geth weaponry for potential salvage. The Alliance was highly interested in obtaining geth technology to attempt reverse engineering on some of their weapon and armor advances. As she was examining a geth pulse rifle – trying to determine if it was too badly damaged to yield any useful information – she became keenly aware of someone else working in the same area, just the tiniest bit closer than strictly necessary. Glancing up, she was unsurprised to confirm it was Theirin. 

She continued examining the damaged rifle, feigning obliviousness at his presence, hoping that he would take the hint that she didn’t want to talk. It was hard enough working with him on missions and seeing him nearby, knowing that she couldn’t let herself get any closer to him. There was no reason to make it worse by pretending they could have some sort of casual, friendly relationship. That line had been crossed, and while they couldn’t go forward, she didn’t think they could go back either. It would be easier to simply avoid each other, which had been her plan from the beginning. He clearly hadn’t been inclined to cooperate with that, but she didn’t see any reason to make this any easier for him at the moment either. 

Eventually, she determined that the shotgun blast that had disabled the rifle’s wielder had also disabled the weapon, beyond the point of repair or even disassembly for parts. Discarding it, she rose and moved to a different pile of tangled circuitry and metal that had recently housed a VI, hoping to find something of more use there. 

She sighed at the sound of footsteps following her; apparently subtle wasn’t going to work here. Given the stubborn determination with which Theirin seemed to approach any challenge, she wasn’t really surprised that he wasn’t going to make this easy. 

Well, he wasn’t the only one who could be stubborn. Cousland continued working her way through the mangled geth, sorting out a small pile of scraps that might be of some use to the engineers working on understanding geth technology. She deliberately kept her back to Theirin, refusing to look at him. If he was going to ignore her “leave me alone” vibe and start a conversation, she was damn well going to make him work for it. 

“Wouldn’t you hate to be the researcher who turns out to be working with the geth version of the appendix?” 

Cousland was glad she had her back to Theirin so he couldn’t see her bemused half-smile at his utterly random conversation opener. She wanted to respond playfully, to engage in the sort of teasing, light conversation with him that had given her so much comfort in the past. But she knew where that led. 

_Yes, it leads to soft lips and gentle hands and adoring eyes that you could get lost in and feel safe and cherished. Would that really be so bad?_

Firmly, she pushed that treacherous thought away, reminding herself that the same chain of events led to breaking regs, being publicly reviled or humiliated, and losing two promising careers. It led to bitterness and resentment. The Alliance was about all either of them had left, and she refused to let them both throw that away, even if he didn’t seem to care. 

She responded to his original comment flatly, without a trace of humor. “Synthetics wouldn’t have vestigial organs. They lack an evolutionary history that would leave remnants like that. They’re individually constructed, so any part that’s become useless would be left out.” 

“That’s why it would be so awful to find out you were working on one; no one would see it coming.” Theirin pressed on, refusing to be deterred, but his levity sounded more forced now. 

“Lucky for me, it won’t be an issue. I just shoot the things and pick up the bits that are left intact. Figuring out what they do is someone else’s problem.” She finally looked at him, glancing over her shoulder with an impersonal, detached expression. “Did you need something specific?” 

Theirin flinched slightly at her tone, and she had to fight to maintain her mask of indifference. “Um, no, not really… Not at all, actually.” He stammered and then regrouped, beating a hasty retreat. “I’ll just go look at the salvage opportunities over, um, somewhere else.” 

He walked away, casting a quick glance back over his shoulder. The look of confused betrayal in his eyes hurt, but Cousland steeled herself against giving in. She reminded herself yet again that a clean break now would save them both a lot of heartache in the long run. And besides, given everything she already had to feel guilty about and regret, what was one more? 

Cousland continued sorting through geth scrap, hoping that would be the end of things with Theirin, at least for today. She really wasn’t sure she could deal with much more at the moment. Of course, she couldn’t possibly be that lucky. Apparently the exchange had been observed, which meant more questions she didn’t want to answer. 

As the team was heading back to the shuttle – carrying a few small satchels of geth scrap material and an even smaller collection of OSDs with geth data – Commander Guerrin fell in casually alongside her, matching her pace. 

Cousland frowned and tensed. In her experience with the man thus far, Guerrin didn’t do anything casually. If he was walking with her, he had deliberately sought her out for some reason, and she wasn’t looking forward to whatever he had in mind. 

He walked in silence for a few moments before speaking, his tone concerned. “Are you having a problem with Alistair?” 

“Private Theirin, sir?” She decided to play stupid. Stonewalling officers was a time-honored tradition to avoid unpleasant conversations. “No, sir. No problems.” 

Guerrin’s frown was barely visible behind his breather mask, but it was clearly audible in his voice. “I’ve observed some tension between the two of you. If there’s some sort of difficulty or he’s… making you uncomfortable somehow, I want you to know you can talk to me about it.” 

“I appreciate that, sir. But there’s nothing to say. There was a slight incident of insubordination on that last geth raid, but we’ve settled it. He’s a good marine, sir, and I don’t anticipate any further difficulties.” 

The commander appeared unconvinced, but he capitulated in the face of her formal, blank stare. “Yes, well, if there are any issues, don’t hesitate to bring them to me.” 

“Understood, sir.” 

Cousland was unspeakably glad when they reached the shuttle and she could use the excuse of stowing away her satchel of salvage to position herself as far as possible from both Theirin and Guerrin. The marines seated around her were far more respectful, recognizing her dark mood and giving her the space she needed to brood in silence for the flight back to the Nairobi. 

 

When Commander Guerrin sought her out the following day, Alexia tensed. “Sir.” She greeted him neutrally, preparing for another session of deflecting attempted soul-searching about her interactions with Theirin. Fortunately, she was wrong. 

“I heard from my brother. He sent some of the intel you wanted on Loghain Mac Tir.” 

Alexia sighed, frustration replaced with eagerness. She nodded encouragingly, gesturing for him to continue. When he didn’t say anything further, she prompted him. “That’s great. Let’s hear it.” 

“Not just yet.” He stroked his close beard thoughtfully, contemplating his next words. “I’ve also been doing some research of my own. Call it curiosity about your motives for bringing Eamon into this. I came across an article about a pirate attack that happened about a year ago. A businessman and his family, killed while on vacation.” 

Alexia turned away, her throat clenching as she struggled to contain her reaction. She’d thought she would be better able to deal with conversations about her loss at this point, but it had been unfair of him to spring it on her like this. She managed to croak out a response, wincing as her rough tone gave away the emotions she’d tried to hide from her face. “What about it?” 

“You could have told me.” He sounded hurt, like he thought she was somehow obligated to share the details of her personal history with her commanding officer. Like he considered it an indictment of him that she hadn’t come to him. 

Alexia shook her head. “This much later, it’s not exactly something I lead a conversation with. ‘Yes, very nice to meet you. By the way, my entire family was murdered last year on a trip I was supposed to be on.’ It’s not really a great conversation starter.” She shrugged, the movement made abrupt and jerky by the sudden tension in her shoulders. 

His frown and piercing gaze made her excuse feel flimsy. “And when I asked specifically about why you needed my connections on the Citadel instead of using your father’s?” He shook his head. “The very fact that you can’t talk about it this much later strongly suggests you’re having difficulty handling the loss.” Guerrin placed a hand on her shoulder, a warm and reassuring presence that offered comfort without demanding anything. His voice grew softer, more vulnerable, as he continued. “I know what it’s like to lose someone close to you. First Rowan, all those years ago. And now Cailan, her son, the last thing the family had left of her… It’s not easy. I understand how difficult grieving can be, how it can affect you in unexpected ways.” 

Alexia whirled on him, resenting both his touch and his sympathy. “No, you want to know what’s ‘difficult’? ‘Difficult’ is knowing that my father was murdered by his business partner, a man he trusted, his lifelong friend. That’s what’s ‘difficult’.” 

To his credit, Guerrin didn’t challenge or question her accusation. He merely offered her the opportunity to back up her statement. “How do you know?” 

“I stumbled across it while investigating Ostagar.” She shook her head. “The details don’t matter, but there are financial links between executive accounts at father’s company and the pirates who killed him. The attack wasn’t a crime of opportunity; it was premeditated and paid for.” 

“How close are the links to Ostagar? And can you prove it?” The commander’s face was set in a thoughtful expression, wheels clearly turning. Alexia wished she knew where his line of thought was taking him. 

“Maybe. The connection’s a little weak, but maybe.” She tried to consider the evidence from a dispassionate, legal viewpoint. “I think there’s enough to bring Rendon down for my family, but I don’t know if it will touch Ostagar or his accomplices. Whoever they are, they operated at a safe distance.” 

“Even if a legal connection can’t be made between Rendon and Ostagar, his prosecution – and hopeful conviction – would seriously damage the credibility of anyone linked to him, even circumstantially.” 

Alexia frowned. He had a valid point, but there was more to it from where she was standing. It was none of Guerrin’s business whether she chose to topple the company her father had spent his life building. It was time to steer him back to what she’d asked him to do. “Like Loghain Mac Tir. What have you learned?” 

Guerrin accepted the subject change, pulling out a datapad and glancing at a file, presumably the information he’d received from his brother. “I’m sure you know he fought with Maric in the First Contact War. They both came out of that as heroes. According to those who knew them both, the difference was that Maric moved on, and Loghain never did.” 

“Meaning what, exactly?” 

Guerrin shrugged. “Once humanity became part of the galactic community, we needed to put aside our grudges and work together with other races. After what he’d seen in the war, Loghain could never bring himself to trust turians. As you can imagine, that was a significant hindrance in the Alliance at that point. While Maric climbed the ranks towards General, Loghain’s career effectively stalled out. How could the brass promote someone who refused to cooperate with the turian fleet? Hero or not, he was an embarrassment on the galactic stage, so they sidelined him whenever possible. Eventually, he took the hint and left the military.” 

“To become a defense contractor.” 

“He still had enough contacts in the Alliance Navy – people who respected him for his earlier heroism – that he was able to establish Regent Armaments as a major supplier for several major projects. That’s how he’s made his money.”

Alexia nodded, thinking. “That fits. Everything that was done at Ostagar was set up to frame the turians. If we’d bought the story and blamed them for the loss of Alliance troops – and maybe even the failure of the original colony – that could certainly turn a large portion of humanity against the turians. There are already enough people suspicious of non-humans; all they’re looking for is a reason.” She paused, turning the idea over in her mind. “How would he have known about the Nairobi’s mission to Ostagar in order to set this up?”

“Eamon says Mac Tir still has significant influence in some circles. It wouldn’t be implausible to think he might have Alliance information that isn’t public knowledge.” 

“So it’s plausible.”

“But can we prove it?” 

“I’m not sure we can, at least not with the information Varel sent. The credit trail that links Regent Armaments to the mercenaries is tenuous. Everything’s filtered through Howe, through Conobar Transport.” Alexia frowned. “And if Mac Tir has the kind of connections your brother suggests, I suspect he could arrange to deflect anything but the most bulletproof accusations.” 

“So we keep digging. Both of us.” Guerrin looked determined, and she was pleased to see that he didn’t plan to back down from this now that it was getting into murky ground. 

Alexia nodded with a smile. “Agreed.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chenria's second DABB picture, which accompanies this chapter, can be found here: http://chenria.tumblr.com/post/43003311419/and-this-is-also-for-the-wonderful-da-me-crossover

Two days later, Alexia was summoned to the captain’s office. Her immediate reaction was to wonder which of the borderline things she was engaged in had caught Captain Dryden’s attention. She wasn’t entirely sure which would be preferable: the humiliation of having the captain dress her down for being semi-involved with a subordinate, or finding out what the penalties were for carrying out unsanctioned investigations related to missions that were supposed to be kept secret. Either way, her only defense could be, “I didn’t intend for it to get so far out of hand,” and she doubted that would be sufficient. 

When she arrived, the door light was green, so she went straight in. Commander Guerrin was already seated across from the captain. At least that answered which issue was on the agenda. Alexia immediately began preparing what feeble response she could muster for the charges that were likely to come. 

Alexia offered Captain Dryden a stiff salute, a formality that was often dispensed with onboard the Nairobi. But this seemed like an occasion that called for deference and respect. Dryden acknowledged it with a sketchy wave and gestured for Alexia to sit. The captain’s face was stern and pinched, her lips pressed into tight, thin lines. This was not going to go well. 

“Would one of you mind telling me what the hell is going on on my ship?” the captain snapped without preamble. 

“Ma’am?” The commander appeared to have retreated into the subordinate’s last refuge of stonewalling. Alexia doubted that was going to fly with Dryden. 

Sure enough, the captain turned her piercing glare on him full force. “Don’t ‘ma’am’ me, Guerrin. The two of you are up to something, and it’s easy enough to figure out it’s about Ostagar. Why don’t I know about this? Hell, the damn salarians know about it.” She rubbed irritably at her temple. “They know damn near everything, so I don’t know why I’m surprised.” 

Alexia decided it was her place to step in and own responsibility. “It’s my fault, ma’am.” She winced as Dryden’s dark look swiveled her direction. “The official explanation of what had happened at Ostagar felt wrong to me, no offense intended. I would have come to you, but I didn’t have any proof beyond a gut feeling. So I asked some people I knew to look into it, and then some of them asked other people for favors, and it expanded beyond what I originally intended.” She raised her chin and squared her shoulders. “This is all my doing, ma’am. I dragged Commander Guerrin into it because I needed his brother’s connections on the Citadel.” 

“None of that explains keeping me in the dark.” 

Alexia chose her words carefully. “The evidence, for lack of a better word, is all extremely tenuous, more speculation than conclusion. We’re dealing with extremely serious accusations, and I wanted to be completely sure of my case before advocating any official action.” 

“Those are reasons for not telling the Admiral or, God forbid, Councilor Anderson. Reasons I support, by the way. They are _not_ reasons for keeping secrets from me on my own damn ship.” Dryden’s brows were drawn down over her eyes, a stern look that Alexia suddenly realized wasn’t directed entirely at her. “Those were my soldiers lost in that disaster, my career on the line. I’m the one who’s going to take the blowback if this explodes in your face, because no one will believe it’s happening on my watch without my knowledge. But more importantly, if you have information about who or what is responsible for killing my people on Ostagar, I damn well want to know about it.” 

Chagrined, Alexia determined she needed to re-evaluate her commanding officer. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I’ve known CO’s who would prefer not to know.” 

“Teagan at least should have known I’m not one of them.” 

The commander nodded, both acknowledgement and apology. “I was giving you deniability if it got ugly. But you’re right, captain. I should have realized we could bring you in on this.” 

Alexia opted to follow his lead; Guerrin had yet to steer her wrong. “Would you like a brief summary now, ma’am, or would you prefer to have me get the files with full details?” 

“Start with the highlights, and we’ll go from there.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” Alexia laid out the basics of their case, starting with the falsified credit trails, the dead ends, and what they had found once they worked their way around them. She raised the subject of Loghain Mac Tir, presenting both the circumstantial evidence implicating him and the reasons they had been cautious about forming any concrete judgments based on it. 

Dryden listened calmly, her eyes intent and periodic ghosts of expression flitting across her face – the flicked raise of an eyebrow, a hint of pursing to her lips, a glint of satisfaction in her eyes. She nodded firmly when Alexia finished. “Quite a mess you’ve uncovered. If this gets mishandled, we’re risking conflict with the turians either way, cover-up or face value.” A frown creased her face. “Damn, I hate when things get political.” 

The captain pressed her hands down on her desk decisively. “You’re hereby authorized to keep digging. Get me proof, and I’ll stand by it, no matter where it leads us.” She fixed Alexia with a steely glare. “And keep me in the loop, lieutenant.” 

“Aye aye, ma’am.” Alexia was finally seeing the woman she’d heard so many stories about. This was the decisive, independent, strong captain she had been so eager to serve under. Maybe she should have been more willing to trust that reputation earlier. It certainly would have saved a lot of trouble. 

Dryden nodded. “Dismissed.” 

 

In preparing a more formal, organized data summary for Captain Dryden, Alexia came to two conclusions about the evidence they had at this stage. 

First, it was definitely not enough to support any sort of formal accusations – or even an official investigation – against Loghain Mac Tir. Given the man’s connections at high levels of government, his large personal fortune, and the way he had meticulously funneled everything through other corporations, moving against him at this point would be an absolute waste of time. It would likely even be counter-productive in that it would give him warning that he was under suspicion and provide time for him to cover his tracks even more thoroughly. Bringing any kind of formal proceedings against Loghain would be incredibly foolish without gathering more concrete evidence to prove the accusations. 

Her second conclusion, however, was that the case against Rendon Howe was solid. He had left his fingerprints all over both his dirty work and Loghain’s. Varel and Vardo had both drawn clear, obvious connections between Rendon’s accounts and mercenary activity – not to mention extreme misappropriation of corporate funds. Alexia knew him to be a rather shrewd businessman, so she couldn’t imagine why he had been so criminally careless. The only explanation she found plausible was that his extreme arrogance had blinded him to the possibility that anyone would ever suspect him enough to look at his transactions. 

Alexia finished assembling the summary and data excerpts on her Ostagar investigation, sending the files on to the captain so she would be thoroughly briefed and up to speed to respond to new information as it came in from Alexia or Eamon’s channels. 

And then she began preparing a similar, if more formal, summary of Rendon’s illegal and immoral mismanagement of Conobar Transport since shortly before her father’s death – including the financial links to the mercenary pirate group responsible for her father’s death. She was careful to include only data that could have been obtained from within the company and to avoid drawing attention to links to Loghain or Ostagar. There was more than enough damning evidence to condemn Rendon without venturing into that murky territory. 

Her family was owed justice. But it was about more than that. Rendon could not be allowed continued access to Conobar’s resources, to use the legacy her father had spent his life building for selfish, corrupted ends. Bringing down Rendon wouldn’t bring back the Couslands – and Alexia wasn’t even sure it would give her closure – but it would make sure that the next people who got in Rendon’s way didn’t suffer the same fate. And that was a cause worth fighting for. 

Alexia finalized the documents and sent them to some of her father’s contacts among the Citadel diplomatic corps. At least one of them would be sure to have the resources and initiative to bring this to the attention of the right people to start formal proceedings. All she had to do now was wait. 

 

A few days later, the Nairobi docked at the Citadel for the captain to attend some strategy meetings deemed too important to be held via holographic comm chat. The sessions were expected to drag out for most of the day, so Captain Dryden had granted shore privileges to all crew members not engaged in essential duties. Most of the ship’s complement, especially the younger marines, had leapt at the chance, heading out at the soonest opportunity to enjoy entertainments not available on board. 

Alexia, on the other hand, had decided to take advantage of the relatively empty and quiet ship to get some work done. Being docked at the Citadel gave her access to much faster communication resources and a wider array of informational resources than were readily available in deep space. It was a perfect opportunity to continue her research into the history of the Ostagar colony, as well as Loghain Mac Tir’s activities and connections. Plus, with most of the crew away, she could make use of one of the ship’s common terminal rooms without worrying about interruptions or eavesdroppers. 

She was finishing making notes on some old records about shipments and requisitions for the colony on Ostagar – nothing interesting, but information that might help her put together a pattern of life on the colony, something that might unravel the mystery of why it failed – when she heard someone enter the room. Quickly hiding her files from potential prying eyes, she turned to see Alistair standing just inside the doorway. 

He was dressed in civilian clothes, which she initially found so disconcerting that it took her a moment to notice the incongruous fresh cut rose he was holding. Where had he gotten a flower? Live plants were unheard of on a ship. He must have already been ashore on the Citadel to pick it up. 

That mystery dealt with, her brain moved to the larger question of why he was out of uniform and carrying a rose. Clearly he was headed off the ship, and the most reasonable assumption would be that he was meeting someone. Someone important enough that he had gone to the expense of a live flower to impress her. 

Alexia tried to tell herself that she shouldn’t be upset by this. She’d done everything she could to push Alistair away, making it incredibly clear that there wasn’t any hope of a relationship between them. So it would be utterly hypocritical of her to be upset that he had moved on and found someone else. If only her logic could get rid of the hollow feeling in her chest. 

Pasting a bright, if probably brittle, smile onto her face, she forced words past the tightness in her throat. “Headed for a date on the Citadel? Someone special?” She didn’t quite manage the light, casual tone she was aiming for, but Alistair didn’t seem to notice. 

“No. Well, yes.” He glanced down, scuffing one foot on the floor, before looking back up. “It’s not a date, but the flower is for someone very special.” 

Before Alexia could think of anything to say in response, Alistair awkwardly held out a datapad she hadn’t even realized he was carrying, distracted as she’d been by the rose in his other hand. 

Woodenly, she took the datapad, figuring that she might as well look over whatever it was that he’d stopped to talk to her about quickly. She didn’t want to keep him and make him late for meeting his “someone very special”. Also, the longer he stayed, the more chance there was that Alexia would give in to morbid curiosity and ask for additional details that would only hurt to hear. Far better to get him on his way so she could get back to work and attempt to stop thinking about it. 

The file that came up as the datapad flickered to life didn’t make any sense initially. Alexia stared at it, recognizing official Alliance military paperwork, but the content wasn’t really getting through. Phrases jumped out at her: “in light of extenuating circumstances” and “recognition of exemplary service record” and “more valuable to the Alliance in aforementioned alternative capacity”. Eventually she came to the words – in bold, distinct type – “ **Honorary Discharge, Effective Immediately** ”. 

Blinking Alexia scanned over the file again, context starting to fill in now that she realized she was looking at discharge papers. This appeared to be a form releasing Private Alistair Theirin from his contractual service obligations to allow him to pursue another line of work beneficial to the Alliance’s galactic interests. 

Looking up from the datapad, she saw Alistair watching her intently. She had no idea what reaction he was looking for or why he’d shown her this, other than maybe to say goodbye. Her heart dropped even further. He was leaving the Nairobi for good, and she wouldn’t even be able to see him any longer, to hear his laugh or smile at his random humor. 

“So that explains the clothes, then,” she said with false cheer. “You’re not out of uniform. You’re out of the marines entirely, so you don’t have a uniform anymore.” 

Alistair fidgeted nervously, eyes flicking around the room before coming back to her face. “You know what else I don’t have any more?” His tone sounded strained, the humor as forced as Alexia’s own casual air. “Superior officers.” 

Alexia stared at him blankly, wondering what she was meant to make of that remark. From the way he’d delivered it, it was clearly intended as a significant statement, but she wasn’t particularly grasping why. 

“You said if things were different…” Alistair trailed off, holding the rose towards her with a hand that trembled slightly. 

Mind whirling, Alexia continued to stare as her brain tried to catch up. She wanted so much to believe that she was hearing this right, that he was telling her she hadn’t lost her chance with him. But she couldn’t adjust so suddenly to the idea that what she wanted might not be impossible after all. After spending so long telling herself she couldn’t have him, she couldn’t quite accept that might have changed. It would hurt too much to hope if she were wrong. 

Taking her silence as a bad sign, Alistair started to babble. “I mean, if you’re still interested, or um, might be willing to consider, well, me…” He chuckled, a thin, nervous sound. “I could understand the reluctance.”

Alexia reached out quickly, catching his hand as his arm started to sag in defeat. “For me?” She brushed one finger over the soft red petals of the rose, still somewhat disbelieving. “You brought… This is for me?” 

“Now that the paperwork’s finalized,” he gestured at the datapad she still held, “I figured I finally could.” 

The shy smile on his lips, the hesitant way his fingers sought out hers around the flower stem, the look of wary hope mingled with disbelief in his eyes… suddenly this was real. 

“Yes,” she said, not entirely sure what she was agreeing to, only that she was affirming this thing between them she had been trying to deny for so long. 

She moved forwards, and Alistair met her halfway, closing the distance between them. Then his mouth was on hers, his arms came up to pull her close, and there was no more reason or room for thought. She parted her lips, yielding to his gentle pressure, welcoming it. Her hand, still holding the stem of his rose, rested on his shoulder, her fingers brushing at his neck and collarbone. 

This felt so different from their first kiss; his hesitation and her reluctance were gone, stripped away by the change in circumstances. All that was left was the connection that had been growing between them far longer than she had been willing to acknowledge, since – if she were to be honest with herself – shortly after she had saved him at Ostagar. Thinking about how close she had come to losing him, both to enemy fire and to her own stubborn determination, she clung to him even tighter, reveling in the warmth and solidity of his body against hers. 

Alexia was so completely engaged that she failed to register any meaning to the hiss of the door opening. It was harder to ignore the startled voice barking out their names. “Cousland, Theirin!” 

They both startled, pulling apart quickly at Commander Guerrin’s interruption. Alistair tried to take a step away, separating from her completely, but she caught hold of his hand, tethering them together. She didn’t want to let him go so soon. He glanced at her, surprised, before twining his fingers with hers around the stem of the rose. Then he turned to face the commander, somehow managing to look both sheepish and defiant. 

“Oh, Lord…” Guerrin was rubbing at his temple with a sigh, but he sounded amused as much as annoyed. Alexia thought she saw the briefest hint of a smile on his lips, but it was gone before she could be sure. “I realize this was inevitable, but I assumed the two of you would have the sense to be discreet enough I could at least pretend not to know about it.” He shook his head, clearly frustrated. “If you’re going to be this careless, give me one reason I shouldn’t write you both up for fraternization.” 

Wordlessly, Alexia handed him the datapad she was still holding, Alistair’s discharge paperwork coming up on the screen as he took it. 

Raising an eyebrow, the commander scanned the file. He seemed to grasp the significance sooner than Alexia had. He handed the datapad to Alistair when he finished, regarding the younger man with a small smile. “I suspected Eamon was planning to start you on the path he’d been grooming Cailan for. He mentioned you weren’t likely to stay under my command for long. But I’ll admit I hadn’t expected he could get through the red tape quite this quickly.” 

“Yes, well, he’s always been good at rearranging people’s lives for them, hasn’t he?” Alistair flicked the datapad off and tucked it away. “It’s been a pleasure serving with you, sir, but since you’re not my commanding officer any more, I’m pretty sure you can’t discipline me for anything.” Alistair seemed unaware of the incongruity of referring to someone as “sir” while rejecting his authority, but Alexia caught sight of a twitch of amusement on Guerrin’s lips. 

It was gone almost immediately, replaced by an expression of serious contemplation that almost had to be faked. Alexia suddenly began to wonder if the commander was a lot more subtle than she’d been giving him credit for. “If Alistair’s no longer an active member of the Alliance marines, I suppose the most that’s happening here is Lieutenant Cousland engaging in something that could be considered inappropriate behavior while in uniform in a semi-public place. I believe I could let that go with a warning on the condition that the two of you relocate to continue this somewhere more private.” Now Alexia was certain there was a glint of amusement and approval in Guerrin’s eyes. 

“Gladly, sir,” she said, looking over at Alistair with a smile. 

Her good mood faltered as soon as he turned towards her, disappointment written across his expressive face. “Lexia, I wish I could.” He brought his free hand up to cup her cheek, his touch gentle despite the calluses. “Eamon wants me to start right away, and I was on my way to go meet him. I just wanted to see you first to say goodbye and... see if I had a chance.” 

Guerrin cleared his throat. “Coincidentally, I need to speak with my brother and was planning to drop in on him while we’re here. We might as well go together. I’ll wait outside until you’re ready.” 

Neither of them responded, and the only sound in the room was the door hissing closed behind the commander. Alexia didn’t even turn to watch him go, captivated as she was by the depth of emotion shining from Alistair’s eyes. She wasn’t sure she could ever get used to the amount of longing and adoration she saw in his face in these unguarded moments. A fleeting thought crossed her mind, wondering what she must look like in return, but it wasn’t worth wasting any of their limited time worrying about. 

A second after the door had sealed shut and they were alone again, Alexia was back in Alistair’s arms, resuming their interrupted kiss. Her hand slid up his chest and around to toy with the short hair at the nape of his neck, and he made a soft, sighing-whimpering noise into her mouth. His arm around her back tightened, pulling her impossibly closer, and she abandoned any thought beyond this moment and how good and right it felt to be kissing Alistair. 

When they were finally forced to separate to breathe, Alexia nestled her head on his shoulder, running her fingers idly along his neck and jawline. If she was going to have such a short amount of time with him right now, she was determined to indulge the little desires that had been nagging at her for weeks. “I’m going to miss you,” she murmured, lips just barely brushing against his skin and eliciting a brief shiver. 

“I know.” His arms tightened around her. “I mean, I’ll miss you, too, not that I expected you would miss me. I’m glad that you will, though.” 

She chuckled softly, pressing a light kiss to the side of his neck. 

“This isn’t enough time.” He continued, his voice growing more serious. “I don’t know if anything could be; I’m not sure I’ll ever stop wanting to be with you. I hope not.” 

That declaration would have been frightening or overwhelming if Alexia hadn’t suddenly realized that she felt the same way. This might not last, but at least for the moment, she couldn’t picture wanting to get past this infatuation, not desiring to be close to him. 

“I was hoping… Would you come see me, next time the Nairobi’s at the Citadel?” 

“Definitely. Whenever we’re docked here, for as long as the captain can spare me.” She felt a little bit of tension sag out of his shoulders, and it hurt that even still, he was waiting for her to reject him. Of course, she’d brought that on herself by pushing him away for so long. All she could do now was work to convince him she was done with that. 

Alexia lifted her head off his shoulder and looked him squarely in the eye to make sure what she said would really get through. “Alistair, I think you need to hear this.” She stroked her thumb along his jawline, continuing to indulge in the little touches she had been denying herself. “Any reluctance or coldness you’ve been feeling from me had everything to do with following Alliance regs. I’ve never had a question about you as a person I could come to care deeply about. If anything, that made me need to fight harder to resist you.” She smiled shyly, feeling a blush start on her cheeks. 

Alistair was staring at her with that look again, the intense combination of disbelief and near-reverence that in the past had left her torn between wanting to kiss him and needing to run before she got too close. Fortunately, running was no longer necessary. 

There was something deeper and more meaningful in this kiss compared to the earlier ones. The longing and passion were still there, but Alexia thought there was an edge of desperation that had gone. Alistair was no longer clinging to her like he needed to memorize the feeling and hold on before she was taken away from him. Instead, there was a hint of promise, of potential, an assurance that this would be the first of many rather than a one-time chance to be seized. 

When they separated, pulling back slightly to catch their breaths, Alexia leaned her forehead in against his, wanting to keep the closeness a little longer. Alistair’s hand idly rubbed patterns on her back, and she reveled in simply being close to him, savoring the warmth of his nearness. 

Eventually, this interlude had to end. 

“I should go,” Alistair said reluctantly. “Teagan’s waiting, and Eamon’s expecting me.” He smiled at her, a tiny bit sadly. “I’d rather stay here.” 

“I wish you could, too.” She placed a quick kiss on the upturned corner of his mouth. “But I promise I’ll come to see you as soon as I can.” 

Alistair pulled her into one final close embrace, resting his face on her hair. “If I don’t go now, I’m not sure I’ll ever manage to.” 

Alexia slowly disentangled herself, noticing that she felt suddenly cold without the warmth of him pressed against her. Alistair moved towards the door, keeping hold of her hand for as long as possible, their fingers finally slipping gently apart. She was surprised by how much self-control it took to stop from darting after him, pulling him back for just one more kiss. But she knew it wouldn’t stop at that, so she kept herself rigidly in place as he passed over the threshold with a final, wistful backwards glance before turning to greet Commander Guerrin with a bashful but happy smile. 

Her own lips curling into an equally sweet, giddy grin, Alexia rubbed the petals of the rose against her cheek as she considered how soon she could find free time. She’d been intending to request shore leave to meet with her father’s contacts on the Citadel, tracking down leads on Ostagar and Loghain more directly. Now she had an additional reason to arrange some time off as soon as the captain could spare her.   
She grinned widely. Captain Dryden had become as invested in the Ostagar investigation as Alexia was. Surely she’d approve a leave request to pursue some answers. And if Alexia had an extra benefit to spending time on the Citadel, what the captain didn’t know about wouldn’t hurt her, as long as it didn’t interfere with the job. 

Smiling, Alexia turned back to the terminal, gently setting the rose down next to the input pad while she composed a formal leave request.


End file.
